The Sherlock One-Shots
by accio-feels
Summary: Various one-shots with either a prompt from a reader or that I made myself. T for language. Warning: may contain traces of fluff.
1. The Beekeeper

_Dedicated to 'runyoucleverboyandremember4321'_

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It had been years since Sherlock moved out of 221B. It had been years since Mary and John got married and it had been years since Molly and Sherlock had seen the doctor. The ex-detective had retired to living the highlife with Molly Holmes nee Hooper, their daughter Rose Holmes and the bees. They had moved out to the country once they got married and soon after they announced Molly's pregnancy, Sherlock retired from being a detective to spend time with his wife and so she knew he'd always come crawling back into bed with her at the end of the night.

Of course, Sherlock was unable to resist the joy of experimenting and their house in the country became a small farm with cows, horses and sheep. Rose was very interested in helping her dad work the farm and look after the property and Sherlock was glad for the extra set of hands, even if the seven year old was unable to do an awful lot of work.

The now beekeeper and farmer kept a tab on his friend's blog, making sure that he was still posting every now and then. Their daughter, Susanne, was now nineteen years of age, a thing John expressed his disbelief on every time he blogged. He was happy, though, and that made Sherlock feel a little more happy but also a little sad. Mrs Hudson got on well with Susanne, apparently, and the two girls would meet at 221 Baker Street and watch the telly, bake or clean… or whatever they did, even John was in the dark. Sherlock hadn't seen Mrs Hudson since Rose was born. He did hope he got a chance to see her again very soon.

Sherlock and Mycroft worked VERY hard at getting Rose up to their speed, something Molly wasn't keen on. When uncle Mycroft visited occasionally or the weekend, he and Sherlock would hardly talk unless it was with Rose and it was about mind palaces or whatever else they went on about. Molly would roll her eyes and finish the cake she was making.

The problem with having two sociopathic Holmes in her house (with the occasional three) was that they knew everything before she did. Rose, however, grew up learning manners, social etiquette and emotions, the same topics Sherlock began to learn when he and Molly started to get serious.

Rose was a very beautiful girl, or perhaps it was just parent bias. She had long curly dark brown hair and Sherlock's cheek bones. Other than that, she was almost a spitting image of Molly. Sherlock thought Rose was the second most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes on, a fact he'd often share with Molly and make sure he never joked that Irene Adler was the first.

It was Wednesday the third of September when Sherlock first began to show his daughter graphic pictures of murders and experiments from his time as a consulting detective. The girl took a deep interest in it and Sherlock also began to test her with a deduction game where she had to identify as many facts as she could about the body on the screen. Molly threw a fit when she saw it and Sherlock and Rose had to bite their tongues. They couldn't just yell out for her to calm down because it would disturb the baby; Molly would throw an additional fit.

It was almost ironic that, despite their best attempts at trying to keep it a secret and letting her figure out this pregnancy, Molly found out from her daughter that she was pregnant and roughly six hours later at dinner. She went to take a sip of alcohol when Rose took a sharp intake of air and stared at her mother as though she was a monster.

"What? Rose, what's wrong?" Molly had asked, alarmed at her daughter's sudden change of mood. She looked over her shoulder before looking back at her daughter and then to her husband.

Sherlock and Rose had a staring contest for a few seconds before Sherlock sighed and shrugged in defeat.

"You can't drink that."

Molly put down the glass and looked at Sherlock. "Are you trying to poison me again for an experiment? You know how I feel about that!"

Sherlock looked back at her startled. "No, of course I didn't! And I did it once back when we were dating. That was ages ago," Sherlock defended before looking to his daughter for help.

Rose nodded and cleared her throat so both the adults would look her way. "Mummy, you're going to have another baby and you can't drink that alcohol. It's bad for you and the baby," the little girl informed her mother who paled and looked over at Sherlock who nodded in confirmation.

"I can't believe this." She stood up and walked away from the table.

"What? What did we do?" Rose asked and Sherlock shrugged.

"She didn't figure out the pregnancy first. This'll be the second pregnancy she didn't know about before me," he told his daughter before telling her to continue to eat.

He stood up and followed after his wife who was in their bedroom.

"Go away, Sherlock. I'm not in the mood right now."

She was sitting on the edge of the bed facing away from the door and the mirror. He sighed and sat beside her. "I'm sorry, love. We tried our best but Rose is sharp."

Molly's propped her head up with her thumb on her chin and her index finger and middle finger pressed by her temple.

"I want to be alone, Sherlock," she told him again.

He, once more, ignored her and wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her neck.

"Molly, my beautiful wife," compliments still did work on her, "I am honestly so sorry you found out that way. I know you wanted it to be a surprise and I know you wanted to find out on your own terms. I promise you, if you get pregnant again, you'll find out on your own and I won't say a thing about it. And I'll make sure Rose takes note of that too."

Molly looked over at Sherlock with tears in her eyes. Slowly, a smile flitted onto her face. "We're going to have another baby," she whispered and he smiled back at her.

He leaned down and kissed her, ignoring the sound of Rose having a sword (dinner knife) fight with herself in the dining room.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the entire world, Molly Holmes, and I am so proud to be your husband."

She kissed him again and smiled. "I love you so much."

"I love you more," he replied.

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**A/N: hey guys!**

**This is dedicated to "runyoucleverboyandremember4321" because she requested this :3**

**If you'd like a one-shot written (examples are, obviously, the _30 Day __Challenge_ and _Mr Hudson's Christmas Present_), please just leave a prompt in the review section or PM me, especially if you have bits and pieces you'd like me to include.**

**I hope you enjoyed reading this, I'm officially here until Tuesday. If you want a one-shot relatively soon, please send a prompt before Tuesday and I'll do my best to get it done for you. I don't know when I'll have WiFi after that nor when I'll be able to access FFN.**

**xx**


	2. The Christmas Present for Mrs Hudson

**A/N: Hi guys!**

**This story is written in purely conversation. I got the idea from the short story "They're made of meat"... I think that's what it's called anyway...**

**Anywho, it's about Sherlock giving Mrs Hudson a smartphone for Christmas. There's no ship to this, no Johnlock, even though John is there.**

**If you'd like your own one-shot, please either PM me a prompt or leave one as a review!**

**x**

**Mrs Hudson in bold, Sherlock in normal and John in italics.**

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**"What is this, Sherlock?"**

"Mrs Hudson, it's a smartphone. How can you not even know what a smartphone is?"

_"Well there goes my Christmas wish…"_

"Shut up, John. Sit down and play with your stethoscope."

**"Sherlock, how do I turn it on?"**

"I already charged it for you so you just have to press that button on the top."

**"SHERLOCK! THERE'S _FRUIT _ON THE SCREEN!"**

"Yes, Mrs Hudson, there is because the apple is a brand logo. Do you seriously not know what Apple is?"

**"I know. It's a fruit."**

"Yes, the man who made this was addicted to fruit, Mrs Hudson. Ok, is the fruit gone?"

**"Yes, there is a picture of you and John. Oh that's nice!"**

"Ok, now slide your finger across the screen."

**"Oh my! It's changed! Now it's Molly, Greg and the people at Scotland Yard. Oh Sherlock, isn't this nice? It's like someone made this exactly for me!"**

"I _did_, Mrs Hudson. Please pay attention."

**"Now what do I do? I've never seen this before, you know!"**

"You don't say. Press a button. I already put some music on for you and-"

**"Music? It plays music as well? Well, isn't THAT something!"**

"Mrs Hudson, London would fall without you and yet, you can't even handle a smartphone. Should I give it to John instead?"

_"Oh, yes please!"_

"Shut up, John. You can open another Christmas present. I was talking to Mrs Hudson. Would you kindly sod off? Thanks."

**"Sherlock, you don't have to be so rude to him."**

"Yes, but I can, so…"

_And I—will always love you—_

**"Sherlock! What on earth?!"**

"You pressed the music button, Mrs Hudson, and then pressed a song. Finally, you moved the- never mind."

**"Oh my! Make it stop, Sherlock!"**

"Pass it here. There, it's off."

**"Thank you. What do I do?"**

"Mrs Hudson, here is the manual. I'll leave you to learn how it works and what to do. If you need help, ask John. Please, ask John."

_"I suppose you didn't get _me_ a smartphone, Sherlock?"_

"Oh be quiet, John! I bought you a new laptop. This one isn't filled with filth. Mrs Hudson would die with fright if she looked in that old one. Don't ruin this one, John."

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**I hope that wasn't too awful. I haven't written in this style before and I won't lie, I was rather nervous! And my apologies for the length... I wrote it about five minutes before uploading. I hope you all had a nice Christmas and it wasn't like John's :)**


	3. The Illegal and Insensitive Flatmate

**A/N: hey guys!**

**A little background before you start: this is the first Sherlolly I ever wrote! *le gasp* It's from Decmeber, I think. There was a picture of Molly looking out a window on Tumblr and someone commented with something like "I wonder what living with Sherlock has done to her?" or whatever, and that inspired this!**

**Anyway, I finished it a few days ago, thought you'd like it :)**

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The two years Sherlock lived with Molly was terrible. The prospect of him there was great… until it happened. For two long, dragging years, she put up with him being bored. The internet couldn't solve it and her many trips to the library was pointless as every day she was forced to go, she had to return all the books that he didn't like or had read, i.e. the entire library. Sherlock had a picky palate as well. She went on two shopping trips a week, once for herself and the other to return things she got for Sherlock and exchange them for the stuff he demanded. It was terrible when he tore his clothes or something shrunk in the dryer. She had to buy things for him at select shops with people who stared at her as if she with suspicion. The task of living with him and looking after him was no longer desired and she was more than thankful when he told her it was time to go.

When Sherlock left the building for the first time, she entered her apartment and began to clean up the remainders of Sherlock's belongings. She opened the fridge and groaned as she saw the heart that sat on a plate. He had begged her to bring home people from work and, like a fool, she had agreed. Her boss appeared to be getting suspicious of the missing organs after an autopsy but nothing was ever said to her. A groan left her lips as she abandoned cleaning the kitchen and continued to his room. Most of it was clean, the odd sock lying around.

_You left some things at my place. You should probably get them before you return to John. It's just some socks but they don't match and I'm not going to wear your socks. –MH_

She took her time writing it, knowing she'd stumble up and write something stupid. Out of habit from reading Sherlock's texts, she ended with _–MH_.

To Molly's disappointment, he did not reply or come back.

After a week of not hearing a thing from or about Sherlock or John, she began to miss the man she had been in love with for years. The last two had been an eye opener but nonetheless, she still missed him and she still loved him.

_Sherlock, is everything ok? If you don't respond, I'll drop by 221B myself. –MH._

Molly waited with angst by the phone, hoping the beautiful sociopath would answer her texts. With no response, she knew she'd have to take rash measures.

That's why she found herself sitting outside of Mycroft Holmes' office, hearing a large shouting match take place. When the office doors opened, a furious curly haired man appeared, his brother, Mycroft standing tall behind him, a cut on his lip. Molly rose upon seeing the Holmes brothers and she rushed towards them. Sherlock glanced at her and rolled his eyes.

"Sherlock, where the hell have you been? I've been worried sick!" she exclaimed and he sighed.

"I'm living my life outside of your dingy little flat walls, Molly. And for the record, John doesn't live in 221B anymore, apparently," he grumbled before throwing a look at his brother standing behind him.

"You know what, Sherlock? For such a long time, I've been taking care of all your needs, buying you things, trying to entertain you, and I didn't get a single thank you. And here you are, being rude to me after you squatted in my house for two years! Didn't you think it would be a good idea to keep me in the loop of what is happening to you? You have been ignoring all of my texts and avoiding me! This has gone on for too long! I love you, Sherlock, but you've been nothing but unfriendly to me for years! Guess what? I'm fed up with that! You can't keep doing this to me! It's not fair!" she exploded and slapped the man, startling the few people sitting outside Mycroft Holmes' office.

With that, she stormed out of the building, her infuriation growing with every step she took until, finally, she arrived home. Once the door slammed shut, the tears started. Her back crept slowly down the door until she sat firmly against the ground.

She thought she heard the distinctive ringing of a text but she ignored it. It was likely to be Sherlock telling her to buck up. She decided then and there that she was no longer going to be that little puppy Sherlock thought she was and she wasn't going to be so love sick. She was going to grow up and forget about Sherlock Holmes.

It was a difficult feat however, as after a week, she had relapsed to her old ways of catering to Sherlock's every demand at Bart's. On top of that, he hadn't come to pick up his experiments or his odd socks, and she was still left with the reminder of him lingering.

Why did she have to have such unrequited feelings for Sherlock Holmes? It was causing her nothing but pain; a pain Sherlock was unfamiliar with and, as such, would never understand how she was feeling.

The two years Sherlock lived with Molly was terrible. Sure, he left every now and again to take down a network, but he returned to her flat in London, causing chaos every time he stepped foot in. There was no reason that Molly Hooper should love him; he never showed any interest in her at all. Despite the two hard years of juggling a job and catering to Sherlock Holmes, she was still so in love with him; a love he neither returned nor felt he had the capacity to even feel in the first place. He was the rudest, most inconsiderate person she had ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on, but despite it all, she couldn't help but be so desperately in love with him.


	4. The Pirate Code

**A/N: Hey guys!**

**Prompt from fanficy-prompts. Tumblr. Com (still can't post links) and is "pirates". It's an AU prompt but this isn't AU, I prefer to stick as canon as possible.**

**Don't forget that I will create any story you'd like as long as you provide me with a prompt (one word to a few sentences).**

**x**

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Molly stood in front of 221 and stared at the door. Could she really do this? Could she ask Sherlock Holmes such a request? No. There was no way she could do it.

As she made up her mind to turn around and forget the whole fiasco, the door opened. Mrs Hudson looked at her with an uneasy look on her face.

"Hello, Molly. Sherlock texted me to open the door and let you up," she told the young woman who blushed and looked at the window above her to see John giving her a half smile.

She ducked her head and walked into the building and up to 221B. Molly began to panic as she took the stairs. She had butterflies in her tummy and she had no idea how Sherlock was going to react to this news.

"Hello, Molly," John greeted as she entered the flat.

She looked up to see John standing by the window and Sherlock engrossed in an online article.

"Er, yes, hello, John, Sherlock. How are you today?" she asked them and wrung her fingers. Sherlock glanced up and examined her before looking back down at his computer.

"John, could you please leave Molly and me alone? It appears she has something personal to ask and she'd prefer if you didn't stand within hearing distance," Sherlock informed John who looked at the detective baffled.

"How did you- no, never mind, I really don't want to know." John raised his eyebrows and smiled at Molly. He grabbed his coat and left 221 with a slight slam of the front door.

"Yes, what?" Sherlock said a few seconds later while flicking through tabs.

"Er, well… ok. When I was dating Tom, my cousin gave me a piece of her mind and was going on about how finally I was seeing someone and I better not mess this up and-"

"Alright, a lot of 'and', let me explain. Molly, you use 'and' to join two sentences. Please refrain from using more than one before a full-stop." He rolled his eyes and she flushed.

"Yes, I, uh, I know. Anyway, she told me that she'd be very disappointed if we broke up. VERY disappointed." Sherlock gave her a pointed look and she shook her head to clear her thoughs. "Sorry. It's her son's birthday this Saturday, in four days, and she told me to bring my boyfriend along. You look somewhat similar to Tom," Sherlock raised his eyebrows at this and Molly flushed bright red but pretended she hadn't seen it, "so I was wondering if you'd please come along to the party and pretend that we're dating. It would really help me out and I'd be in your debt forever."

She bit her lip as he finished reading the article. After a few minutes he sighed. "Date, time, theme, what time am I meeting you?"

Molly let out a breath of air she didn't know she was holding. "Thank you so much, Sherlock! I'll text you the details when I get home. It's pirate themed. Don't worry, I'll get a birthday present for Hayden."

She suppressed a squeal as she walked down the stairs and out the front door, closing it gently as she went.

~oOo~

Sherlock felt very foolish as he looked in the mirror. Why on earth did he dress up? It's not like Molly said he had to. Nope. He looked ridiculous. He was changing right now.

"Sherlock, Molly's here," Mrs Hudson told him through the door with a slight knock.

"Great," Sherlock grumbled before opening his bedroom door.

Molly was wearing trousers and boots as well as a frilly long sleeved shirt. She had a bandana in her hair and, overall, she did not look like a pirate. She smiled at him and he huffed.

He was wearing black trousers with his boots, an eye patch, a sword, a pirate hat and he even drew on a few fake scars on his face. Sherlock had a lot of experience dressing as a pirate when he was a child.

"You look great, Sherlock! I'm sure Hayden will love your costume," Molly told him and he rolled his eyes.

"I look ridiculous."

"Oh, Sherlock, you look wonderful! You should dress as a pirate more often!" Mrs Hudson beamed.

"Yes, well, you also thought I should wear those godforsaken antlers as well. I'm not willing to follow your suggestions, Mrs Hudson."

~oOo~

An eight year old ran through the legs of the two adults who were dressed as pirates. Molly and her cousin Vanessa were talking about Sherlock who was admiring the cake.

"He's very attractive, well done," Vanessa said, her eyes glued on Sherlock's rear end.

Molly noticed her gaze and her lips formed a very thin smile.

"Yes, that is one thing I did notice about him, as well as how… interesting he is," Molly hesitantly told her cousin.

"Well, I do hope he's not the one who got away. He seems really nice and he's great with the kids. You should marry him," Vanessa poked in.

Molly's patience was running thin. Vanessa was sticking her nose too far into this business. "I guess we'll see."

"Don't you dare screw this one up, Molly. You've been on so many dates I the last few years and finally, you've met a bloke who is nice and likes you. My tip to you is to not be yourself. You're too…" Vanessa crinkled her nose at her cousin and frowned. "Well… you."

Molly nodded at her cousin and excused herself to walk over to Sherlock. "We're getting out of here right now," she muttered and he looked at her.

"Yarrr. Be you havin' a problem?" he asked and she gave him an unimpressed look.

"Cap'n, it seems we've got to retreat because the sea witch is casting spells on certain people's self-esteem. Let's get out before we're both lost," she told him and took his hand to drag him to her cousin.

"Sherlock, great to talk to you again," Vanessa said uncertainly and Molly shook her head.

"We're going, Vanessa. Tell Hayden I said happy birthday again and that I love him. I'll see you later."

Molly and Sherlock left the party with a yell from behind them of: "I want to see you two again before the wedding!"

She didn't want to imagine what the outcome of that shout would bring her, nor what gossip would be brought back to her, especially from her mother. She shuddered at the thought.

"I think I made a rather good pirate today," Sherlock decided as they arrived back at 221 Baker street.

Molly nodded and looked over at Sherlock. "It's a real shame you didn't become a pirate instead of a consulting detective. You'd have been great," Molly teased and he rolled his eyes.

"Yarr, cap'n Molly always be right!" he joked and smiled at her. She giggled in response and he opened the car door. "Are you coming up or going home?"

"I think it's best if I return to port. I'll see you later though. Oh, and Sherlock, thanks for coming to the party. I really appreciate it, even if it didn't really go the way I planned…" she told him before he closed the cab door.

"No worries," he replied and the door slammed shut.

The cabbie drove off while Sherlock peeled the ridiculous costume props away from his body. He was never doing that again free of charge.


	5. The Angel at St Barts

A scream echoed through the morgue from the lab as Molly fell onto her back, terror filling her. Her head collided with the ground and her eyes closed while her face twisted into a grimace. The pain was a sharp throbbing sensation in her head, shoulders and back.

No-one in the hospital heard the scream and no-one went to see if everything was ok. The only people that would be able to hear her were dead. That was a reason Molly enjoyed her job, but also a reason why she didn't. No-one knew her because she didn't work with anyone. She was separate from the rest of the hospital and only those who had to go there went there. No matter what happened in the lab or the morgue, no-one would know until they walked in.

She lay there with a throbbing head that seemed to ooze warmth across the ground. She opened her eyes but squeezed them shut because the lights were very bright. She was slinking in and out of consciousness; growing worried that no-one would come and find her.

Mike Stanford usually came at the end of her lunch break, as to not disturb her, and check that everything was going ok. Sherlock was bored and John was taking him out for deduction and ice-cream. Toby was a cat, so he wasn't any help. Other than that, she didn't know who would walk in. Greg could. However, he'd bring Sherlock or think she was out at lunch.

Molly opened her mouth to call out for help again but she felt her vocal cords wouldn't allow that. She didn't seem to mind, though, when she closed her mouth and began to accept the darkness that was clouding her mind and her thoughts.

~oOo~

"The criminals of London need to get their act together," Sherlock grumbled before resuming his consumption on his chocolate ice-cream.

John rolled his eyes and looked out the window. "We could always help out with petty cases. I'm sure Lestrade would be happy to have them solved as soon as possible."

There was an audible sigh from Sherlock who gave John that look of "you'd better be joking, you fool" or as Sherlock called it "Anderson, please". With a shake of his head, he replied with: "nothing under a seven, John."

"There are no bloody sevens or higher. Just don't be a dick for three minutes and help Lestrade. It'll give you something to do," John cried before looking over at the people surrounding.

Sherlock frowned at his ice-cream and pondered while the chocolate melted over his fingers. "We could visit Molly and help her out."

"Molly doesn't need help, Lestrade does. Did you not listen to anything I say?" John frowned at his friend.

Sherlock grimaced at his fingers and slowly lifted his gaze up John and stared into his eyes. "Yes, let's visit Molly."

"You're such a prat. Do you really think Molly's going to let you in so you can stop feeling bored?"

"It's not a party until Molly Hooper is there," Sherlock told his blogger while standing up and shrugging on his coat. "Come along, John."

~oOo~

_Molly. Molly. Molly!_

The woman on the ground began to stir as she heard her name being called. Her eyes flickered open after a few seconds and she was met with a silhouette of a man. The silhouette was beautiful and his hair looked so perfect against the white roof and the light spilled through his curls. She had to restrain herself from reaching up and running her fingers through those curls.

"Molly," the silhouette said and began to inspect her head. "Shit. John, there's blood."

The figure moved away. She closed her eyes again to avoid the bright lights and the burning in her eyes. There were a pair of hands on the back of her head.

"Fuck. This is terrible, Sherlock. She can't be in here and yet, we can't move her. Keep her conscious and I'll be right back."

The hands left her head but were replaced by a pillow of some kind.

"Molly," someone said and the silhouette was back in her vision. "Talk to me. You need to stay conscious."

"Are you an angel?" she slurred out before lifting her left hand to the silhouette. Molly placed it on the cheek and slid her hand into the silhouette's hair.

"It's Sherlock Holmes. I can assure you I am not an angel." Molly dropped her hand and felt her lips turn down as she looked up at the darkened figure.

"Are you sure you're not an angel? No-one should be here and Sherlock doesn't need to be here today," she reasoned to her saviour before gasping. "Am I going to die now?"

The silhouette sighed and his hand slid through his hair. "I'm not an angel and you're not going to die on my watch. John Watson is getting resources so as to help you. You're bleeding from the back of your head. It's really bad and it looks like it's been bleeding for a while."

Molly sighed and bit her lip. "Don't leave me, angel. I don't want to be alone."

The angel nodded and leaned towards her. She felt lips on her cheek. "I won't leave you, Molly Hooper."

"I'm dying?" she asked while sliding her hand down his shoulder, trying to find his hand.

"Without medical attention, yes. However, there is a doctor coming to help you now." Molly found his hand and squeezed it.

"I don't want to die," she told him, feeling her eye well up. "I don't want to go."

"Molly Hooper," the silhouette told her, irritation sneaking into his tone. "You are not going to die because I've got the best man on the job of saving your life. You are going to be fine and you are going to live a full, long life. Do you understand?"

Molly felt her face screw up and she was cautious with rocking her head side to side. "I'm not going to be fine, angel. Even after this, I'm going to go home and be alone with Toby. Once again, like today, if I die, no-one's going to know. No-one will find me. No-one will care." She let go of the hand while tears began to fall and slide down the side of her face.

"That's not true. You have people who care and love you."

Molly closed her eyes and shut out the sound of her angel, even though he told her to open her eyes again and to keep talking. She was feeling lousy and didn't want to talk to him. She began to drift off to the melodic sound of his voice.

~oOo~

Her eyes shot open to see a bright white celling. But it was different to before. She was comfortable now; she was lying on a bed. She slowly sat up to see a visitor in a chair.

"Er, John, hello."

John looked up at her and smiled. "Molly, how are you feeling?"

She frowned and touched the back of her head. "Absolutely idiotic and there's mild pain. Where's Sherlock?"

"Lestrade got a case for him," John told Molly with disapproval in his voice. "I told him to stay here for you but he said he 'got a better offer' and ran off to Scotland Yard. Bloody bastard."

Molly smiled sadly and nodded.

"It's probably for the best that he isn't here. I may or may not have said some things that I wish I hadn't to him."

John smiled and nodded. "Yes, Sherlock mentioned he was your angel. But it's alright; I've had patient spill secrets while they were drugged up or just in a bad state of mind."

Molly blushed as she tried to piece together the full conversation between herself and Sherlock. She wanted to hide her face in embarrassment as she thought about how she had incurred these injuries.

She was walking when she tripped over an item on the ground, spilling the contents in her hands (brain and brain fluid). As she tried to get her footing, Molly slipped on the brain fluid and fell backwards, hitting her head on the metal bench and falling to the ground where she stayed.

How on earth was Molly ever going to live today down?


	6. There Are No Angels at St Barts

**A/N: Hey guys!**

**A few announcements before we start this:**

**1. (the only important one you actually have to read) this is Sherlock's POV (yet still in 3****rd**** person) of 'The Angel in St Barts' and was requested by SammyKatz.**

**2. My parentals haven't changed the wifi password so I am still in the clear. This means you can send me prompts whenever the bloody hell you'd like. Just PM me or leave a review.**

**3. I've just recently (meaning yesterday or something) become a Beta-reader! Yay! So, heads up fellow friendlings, you may request for me to Beta-read and I will not say no because I love you!**

**4. Finally… oh. I don't actually think I have anything else to say… erm… yes! I have one! My tumblr is ****_accio-feels. tumblr. com_**** so please feel free to send me prompts via tumblr, that's also an acceptable method of sending prompts and I will always get those.**

**I think that is everything for today! Have a nice day!**

* * *

**_Dedicated to SammyKatz for requesting this._**

* * *

Sherlock sat in an ice-cream shop in the heart of London with John opposite him. John had his attention fixed on the lemon sorbet while Sherlock let the chocolate ice-cream roll down his fingers. At the window they sat at, their view consisted of people walking past. Sherlock enjoyed sitting at the window because he could look out and deduce people without appearing to be staring at them.

"The criminals of London need to get their act together," Sherlock grumbled before licking his chocolate ice-cream.

John rolled his eyes and looked out the window. "We could always help out with petty cases. I'm sure Lestrade would be happy to have them solved as soon as possible."

There was an audible sigh from Sherlock who gave John that look of "you'd better be joking, you fool" or as Sherlock called it "Anderson, please". With a shake of his head, he replied with: "nothing under a seven, John."

"There are no bloody sevens or higher. Just don't be a dick for three minutes and help Lestrade. It'll give you something to do," John cried before looking over at the people surrounding. A few people gave him irritated looks, especially the parents of children who were asking for a clarification on particular words used by John.

Sherlock frowned at his ice-cream and pondered while the chocolate continued to melt over his fingers. "We could visit Molly and help her out."

"Molly doesn't need help, Lestrade does. Did you not listen to anything I say?" John frowned at his friend.

Sherlock grimaced at his fingers and slowly lifted his gaze up John and stared into his eyes. "Yes, you're right. Let's visit Molly."

"You're such a prat. Do you really think Molly's going to let you in so you can stop feeling bored?"

"It's not a party until Molly Hooper is there," Sherlock told his blogger while standing up and shrugging on his coat. "Come along, John."

"You've got to wash your hands before we enter that morgue. You've already got chocolate on your coat," John informed his friend who rolled his eyes.

"Why do you always have to be so anal about everything?" Sherlock asked as he began to leave the shop.

"I am not anal-retentive. And don't go saying I'm anal to Mrs Hudson. She already thinks I'm gay," John grumbled as he followed his friend out.

Sherlock laughed to himself as he hailed a cab. John was ridiculous when it came to how he appeared to others. It wasn't anyone's business what his sexuality was.

"Saint Bart's hospital, please," Sherlock said as he crawled into the cab, John waiting for Sherlock to get comfortable before following after.

"All I'm saying, Sherlock," John said once he had closed the door and the cabbie was driving, "is that Molly isn't your lap dog. You can't just barge into her work uninvited and complain while she works. That's not how life works, Sherlock."

The consulting detective rolled his eyes and gave John that look again. "John, Molly is more than happy to let me in. And I don't sit there and complain. I help her out and she appreciates it."

John scoffed and shook his head. "She doesn't like you there when you don't have a case. She actually sent me a text requesting I kept you away when you didn't have to be there."

Sherlock decided to ignore the bloggers comment and instead, pretended to text someone.

~oOo~

"Molly," Sherlock called out as he entered the morgue.

"Can we please leave?" John asked as Sherlock looked around vaguely for the young pathologist.

"Nope." Sherlock popped the 'p' while bending down to check under the table. Why Molly would be there, he didn't know, nor did he care. "Molly!" he called out again.

"She's probably in the lab," John said and walked up stairs.

Sherlock stalked after him and looked around the room. She wasn't at her desk or using equipment. In fact, Molly was nowhere to be seen. Again, Sherlock bend down to look for the woman and what he saw had him questioning his sanity. Without a word, Sherlock stood up and walked to the body of Molly Hooper. He leaned down and held his head above hers.

"Molly. Molly. Molly!" he attempted to wake her up while John walked towards them.

The woman on the ground began to stir as she heard her name being called. Her eyes flickered open after a few seconds and Sherlock looked down into her eyes. She smiled slightly as if she wasn't in any pain.

"Molly," he said again, hoping she would talk to him while he examined the damage. He placed a hand by the side of her head and pulled back when he felt something warm on his fingers. There was a read substance, an idiot could realise what it was. "Shit. John, there's blood."

He moved back and John got moved towards her, checking her head for the trauma. For one of the first times in his life, Sherlock didn't want to see what Molly had done to herself from her clumsiness. She had tripped over a few scattered pens before spilling what tasted like brain fluid and sliding on that. She hit her head once on the bench and a second time on the ground, inflicting the blood and causing her to become unconscious. She hadn't been out long, maybe about-

"Fuck. This is terrible, Sherlock. She can't be in here and yet, we can't move her. Keep her conscious and I'll be right back." John slid his folded up jumper under Molly's head before running out of the lab.

"Molly, talk to me. You need to stay conscious."

Her eyes opened again and her smile returned. "Are you an angel?" she slurred out and lifted her hand to his cheek.

He wasn't one to lie, but he would not flinch away from Molly's touch. Not now, not today. But then she slid her hand into his hair and he had to restrain himself from pushing her away from him.

"It's Sherlock Holmes. I can assure you I am not an angel," he informed her.

Molly dropped her hand and her smile turned into a frown at his words. "Are you sure you're not an angel? No-one should be here and Sherlock doesn't need to be here today," she told him before gasping. "Am I going to die now?"

Sherlock sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Why did Molly have to be so irritating? Why are people so irritating? Where's John? "I'm not an angel and you're not going to die on my watch. John Watson, my blogger, is getting resources so as to help you. You're bleeding from the back of your head. It's really bad and it looks like it's been bleeding for a while."

Molly sighed and bit her lip. "Don't leave me, angel. I don't want to be alone."

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock nodded before leaning towards her and kissing her cheek. "I won't leave you, Molly Hooper."

"I'm dying?" she asked before placing her hand on his shoulder and sliding it down his arm. Here he was trying to make her feel better and she was molesting his arm.

"Without medical attention, yes. However, there is a doctor coming to help you now." Molly tok his hand and squeezed it. Oh.

"I don't want to die .I don't want to go." Her eyes welled up and Sherlock began to get really irritated. This was not worth his time.

"Molly Hooper, you are not going to die because I've got the best man on the job of saving your life. You are going to be fine and you are going to live a full, long life. Do you understand?" he told her.

Molly screwed up her face in the ugly crying face she so often adopted when she was watching 'Glee' and she cautiously tilted her head from left to right to indicate 'no'. "I'm not going to be fine, angel. Even after this, I'm going to go home and be alone with Toby. Once again, like today, if I die, no-one's going to know. No-one will find me. No-one will care." She dropped his hand and began to cry freely.

"That's not true. You have people who care and love you." What had he signed himself up to? What was she doing? Why was she talking to him about her self-confidence issues?

Molly squeezed her eyes closed.

"Molly Hooper, come now. Do you really think I'm going to let you just die here? Do you really think no-one loves you? I need you, Molly, alright?" he poked her cheek and frowned when she didn't respond.

Dammit! She was drifting off! That was never a good sign when dealing with head trauma.

John arrived again with a team of people to help Molly. Sherlock took a step back and admired the scene as they worked on Molly on the lab floor.

~oOo~

She lay in her bed in a stable condition. It was a good thing Sherlock and John had found her when they did; any longer and she could have died. Her heartbeat and breathing rate was steady. John had taken one of the seats and looked up expectantly at Sherlock.

"Well? Aren't you going to take a seat?" he asked to which Sherlock screwed up his nose.

"I think you were right. I'll help Lestrade. He's baffled by a case, one I'll solve in seconds. I'm off," Sherlock replied and turned around to leave.

"Is that it, then? We save her life, our friend's life, and you leave the first moment you can? You're not even going to wait and talk to her?" John asked and Sherlock rolled his eyes before spinning around on the balls of his feet.

"John, there is no point. Besides, I've got a better offer than sitting around waiting for Molly to recover. She'll recover at the same, if not faster, rate if I'm not here. No reason for me to stay. Good bye, John," he said before turning around again and walking out as briskly as possible, ignoring the 'SHERLOCK!' that echoed after him.

It was hard for Sherlock to see the people he loved in pain or danger. He couldn't stand to see a gun pointed to John's head, he hated to see his mother in hospital a few years back, he hated to see Mrs Hudson after those Americans got to her. He hated seeing Molly oozing blood and looking poorly. She's the meek, shy, Molly Hooper who always had a certain bubble to her. He couldn't stand to see her bubble missing and a shell of a person remaining.

He had begun to worry for a few minutes that he was too late and Molly was about to die. But he knew Molly was a strong woman who could overcome anything, this accident being no exception.

Sherlock Holmes was not an angel but for Molly Hooper, he'd be anything she wanted.


	7. The Lazy Day

A man by the name of Jim Moriarty was lounging about his flat. A small amount of classical music trickled from his iPod on the table and engulfed the room in the delicious sound that tickled Jim's ears.

Today was a lazy day; a day for relaxing and a day for letting the crime just unfold by itself. Sherlock Holmes was probably rushing about London, trying to pin any and all murders on Moriarty, his "worst" enemy. Jim giggled whenever he thought about Sherlock considering him his greatest enemy. John Watson would probably back him up on that, those damn fools.

Jim's head lulled over to the right and his eyes scanned the large diagram on the wall. His face split in two and he began to laugh. The diagram, a huge web, contained photos and names of each and every criminal who had wanted his help. If there was a red 'x' over a face, it signified that Sherlock had caught them or were dead. Half his web had 'x's on their faces and the other half were either blank or had a red tick over theirs. In the unlikely chance that one of the criminals managed to fool Sherlock Holmes, their crime had been completed and they were awarded a tick on their photo. More were blank than ticked, for obvious reasons such as Scotland Yard or Mycroft Holmes/the British Government. His favourite bit about the diagram was his face stuck right in the middle with little spider legs drawn. Moriarty was a spider who sat in the middle of the web, tugging on the web as desired.

In the last three months, Jim Moriarty was busy; _very _busy. He was creating plans, pulling strings and trying to help out all those who hired him. Sometimes, however, one murder was not enough for Jim. He'd tell the clients that they either killed three or more people or he wouldn't be involved and would anonymously turn them into the police for incriminating evidence on their laptops.

Today, Jim Moriarty was tired and he wanted to rest a day before getting back out there. He had kidnapped someone to be his slave for the day and he was going to do nothing but party it up alone in his flat with some sad person tottering around the kitchen. Moriarty had already warned them that a few of his people were following their family and if they escaped, their family would be killed.

What they didn't know is that he was planning on murdering them as soon as the day was over. Jim felt a shiver run down his spine as he thought about murdering the innocent person in his kitchen, preparing nachos and tea.

His phone charmed, the music being interrupted, to Moriarty's displeasure. He accepted the call and frowned.

"What? What do you want?" he asked and rolled his eyes as they began to talk.

"Mr Moriarty, sir, there's been a bit of a problem," the weak little man told him over the phone.

"What's happened, you incompetent swine?"

"Well, it's about Sherlock Holmes. He's with Molly Hooper and they're analysing some of the scenes of recent murders you arranged," the man stuttered to Jim.

With a sigh, Jim said "and what does this have to do with me? I didn't get any traces of me there; I'm not an idiot, unlike you."

The man gulped on the phone. "Yes, however, the murderer didn't finish the job properly. He's at Scotland Yard and Sherlock will be interrogating him in a few minutes. Aren't you worried that he'll tell them all about you and your current whereabouts?"

Jim thought about that for a minute and pulled a disgusted face. "Nope. You sort it out, you get that man killed. I'm very busy to waste time with such a fool." He looked up to see the hostage standing in the doorway. With a furious face, Jim clicked his fingers and motioned to the kitchen. With a jump, they retreated back and away from Moriarty.

"But, sir-"

"No 'buts'. Get it done or you'll regret it for about 30 minutes before you get in a little… accident that I arrange." He hung up and threw the phone across the room. "I can't even have one day."

~oOo~

"Bored!" Sherlock told John before he pointed the gun at the wall and squeezed the trigger. Sherlock was donned in his pyjamas and his silk dressing gown billowing around with his movements.

"Sherlock! What the bloody hell is wrong with you?! You just solved an eight and now you're bored?" John yelled between gun shots.

"Moriarty has dropped his game. On a normal day, I had clients coming in left, right and centre. Today, however, not a single one! Of course I'm _bored_!" he bellowed before shooting the wall again. "And besides, today's case was a six at best. I just didn't have the heart to tell Lestrade his problems were uninteresting and did not capture a bit of my attention."

Suddenly, the detective stopped, his finger slipping from the trigger. A lazy 'oh' slid through his lips and he dropped the gun. John looked in alarm at his friend and crept towards him.

"Sherlock?"

"I-I have to go…" Sherlock mumbled before gliding out the room and to his bedroom, a resounding slam rushing to John.

A few moments later, there was the sound of hurried feet as Sherlock ran from his bedroom and out the door of 221.

~oOo~

Moriarty fell from his couch and with a crash to the floor. His eyes opened and he looked around alarmed before realising he had fallen asleep and off the couch.

"Slave!" he called out and the little patter of feet came from the kitchen.

"Yes, sir?" Moriarty's slave asked.

"You bore me. I don't want you anymore. Walk outside with your hands behind your head," Jim instructed.

After a thousand 'thank you', the salve-for-a-day ran out of Jim's flat. The person held their hands behind their head and walked out onto the street. There was silence, no-one on the streets and no-one trying to kill them for leaving. They walked down the street and back to their own house. As they reached their front door, they felt nothing but relief. They put one hand down to reach the door handle.

Bang.

"It's done," someone told Moriarty on the phone. "Just outside their door. Their partner and children were in their kitchen. They didn't even have time to say goodbye."

Jim rolled his eyes. He was bored and this news did not excite him at all. He didn't feel the usual thrill at knowing he caused a death. The spider, as he called himself, stood up and skulked to his bedroom, the room where no-one else had ever gone before.

The door opened and Jim slipped in before closing it and snapping all seven locks again.

"Jim. How good of you to join me," a deep voice said behind him.

Jim sighed and rolled his eyes before drooping his head to the left, his body following along with him. Sherlock Holmes lay on the bed bed, his coat hanging on one of the posts.

"Sherlock," the spider said and crossed his arms, a bored look on his face. "What? What do you want?"

"To know what you've been doing today and why there have been no murders." The detective sat up and stared at the criminal.

"I'm not in the mood to play games, Mr Holmes. I'm having a relaxing day, a day for me. I do it every now and then, you should try it sometime."

"I want answers, Moriarty," Sherlock said with ice in his tone.

"Well I suggest you try the internet. I believe it is a good source of answers. Check my twitter. I'm prone to tweeting the current crimes that's going down. Such as the study in pink: 'l_ol, ppl ded. Cabbie, drive me somewhere to watch it?_' surely that was a hint. If you called me, I'd have told you my username. Another favourite of mine was the blind banker. As I recall, the text was on the lines of '_lol, gonna see chinese circus. Totes excited!'. _Sherlock, all I'm saying is that if you wanted answers, just follow me on twitter. I update regularly. And if you followed me, you'd know today is a **_LAZY DAY_**!" Jim mostly said before ending with a scream.

Sherlock seemed lost for words for a few moments. "I followed you on twitter. I stopped because you post irrelevant things such as 'omg, dinner was scrummy, #get me some apple pie pronto'. I don't need that foolishness in my life, that's why I have John."

Jim laughed before pulling a gun from his pocket. "Alright, Sherlock, it's time for you to go now. I'm tired and I'm going to have a nap. You've got to go."

The detective stood up and looked around the room once more. "Please don't start a war while on my way home. As I tell Mycroft, it causes traffic."

Jim smirked at Sherlock before waving him towards the door with his gun.

"Goodbye, Mr Holmes."


	8. The Construction of a Mind Palace

"Imagine you're somewhere completely safe where you feel comfortable and calm. For a beginner, it's best that you choose somewhere you're familiar with like your bedroom or the morgue," the soothing voice said.

Molly Hooper sat with Sherlock Holmes in 221B Baker Street; both of them with their eyes closed. Sherlock was teaching Molly to use a mind palace and Molly was more than happy to do so with him.

"First, we're going to walk around the mind palace and just familiar ourselves with the layout of the room. You'll need to walk in a familiar path. For example, my first mind palace was of my bedroom and I started by walking from the right and continuing until I got back to the door. Choose a path that you feel comfortable with and then just continue to walk around. You don't need to know everything in the room, just the general shape and general things like a table or a chair. You can add things in as prompts to your memory later."

Molly stood in 221B Baker Street and walked through the lounge room. She saw the basic shape and the basic colour. She ran her right hand over the yellow smiley face painted on the wall and felt the bullet holes Sherlock had caused. She continued to walk around the room and brushed past the table and chairs. She entered the kitchen and walked past the basic, stripped room that did not contain any of Sherlock's experiments or gizmos that changed every day. She walked around the two rooms again a few more times before slowly opening her eyes.

She blinked a few times as she adjusted to the real light and looked over at Sherlock who looked peaceful and at ease. He had a very slight smile and his body was relaxed. Molly found herself watching him as he roamed around his mind palace. A few times, his facial expression switched so his forehead crinkled and his eyebrows furrowed. His eyes narrowed and his lips turned down. Throughout a few seconds, his face relaxed again. His eyes darted left and right, up and down as he scanned the room and investigated his memories.

"Would you like to add a memory?" Sherlock opened his eyes and blinked a few times before looking over at Molly who was a slight pink.

"Y-yeah, sure," she stuttered out, embarrassed to have been caught looking at Sherlock.

He narrowed his eyes at her before shaking his head slightly and closing his eyes again. "Alright, think of something you want to remember. It can be an event, a person, a date, anything. Right now, I'm going to look at some information I stored earlier on drowning. It's in my room marked '_forensics_' and is represented by a bottle of water. You need to choose something that will link your thoughts back to that thing."

Molly looked around her mind palace and sighed. What was she going to add in? She decided she'd remember that look that Sherlock had just given her when he saw her blushing. She pictured him sitting in his armchair, looking at her with that look of mixed disgust and irritation; that look just before he shook his head. She felt her heart stop for a second as she looked at his face. That was the face that burned into her mind for a few minutes after the incidents occurred, after she blushed at him. Her heart dropped as her eyes remained on his face. She couldn't tear her eyes away and at the same time, it was killing her on the inside.

She snapped her eyes open and looked at Sherlock who seemed to be pawing through a few different places, scanning each and every item he possessed. He pulled faces at some and smiled at others while he ran around the mind palace.

Molly sent a silent thank you his way for teaching her about mind palaces and how to use them. She stood up as quietly as possible and the small pathologist snuck out of 221 Baker Street without making a noise. The detective was busy going through his room marked '_drowning' _that contained nothing but different images of Molly Hooper's eyes. Every time he thought about them, he found himself drowning in the colour and getting lost.

Those eyes and that blush when he found her looking at him: urgh! It was cute little faces like those that made Sherlock Holmes want to snog that woman. Of course, he'd never do so. How could he do something that would drive Molly's desire for him crazy? How could he do that to her? How could he put himself through the social expectations of continuing something with Molly when, to be frank, the only thing he benefited from having her around was access to the morgue and the lab? No, Molly could never know what she did to him and never know that he was desperate to press his lips against hers, even if it was once and even for the fleeting of seconds.

He opened his eyes and looked beside him, expecting (hoping) he'd see her blushing at him with that adorable, I mean, mundane face. Instead, he was greeted with a blank space. Oh. That was not at all what he had been expecting. He was hoping to see Molly planting a memory in her mind palace or to see her watching him.

Instead, she was at home, listening to a sad playlist on her iPod and contemplating writing AU's about her and Sherlock falling in love. Of course, knowing him, he'd find it minutes before he even walked into her apartment. He'd sniff them out and try and get them lying around so that anyone could read it. What a dick.

Both Sherlock and Molly leaned their heads back against their armchair and sighed. Both thought of the other and how Molly had left without a word. Both thought about how they wished they were together and both fell asleep in their mind palaces, looking at the image of the other they had burned into their memory.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed it. Please remember that I'm taking requests and prompts. I don't know how I come up with this, it honestly is very hard, hence why I did the 30 day challenge with a set list.**

_**PLEASE **_**have mercy on my poor, twisted soul and send me some prompts! I'll even dedicate the chapter to you!**

**Also, I'm now a Beta. I'll just give that a few minutes to sink in.**

**Finally, my Tumblr is accio-feels .tumblr .com and therefore, you can send me prompts via Tumblr :)**


	9. The Moving Comment

_Dedicated to the inspiring: Mighty Sword. Thanks for the beautiful review on last part. ;)_

She looked at the flashing cursor and frowned. How was she going to comment on this? She decided to avoid commenting on every post and looking desperate. She found a random number generator and her rules were as follows:

Comment on a post.

Click the generate button.

After that many posts, Molly Hooper must comment.

Today was his fifth post since she last commented. How was she going to comment on this, though?

_Alright, today's the day. Today, I am going to finally tell her how I feel and then, perhaps, I'll have some good news for you all later. Keep an eye out. –SH._

Molly had no idea what that meant or who 'she' was. '_Hope it's good news! Fingers crossed!' _Molly typed before deciding it was not the right thing to say. He hadn't provided enough information for Molly to write a comment that wouldn't need someone to reply to her. She only comments once on a post and only if she's meant to reply to that post; only if it's in her rules. '_Well, good luck on your endeavour. I hope 'she' takes your feelings well. Don't want another person to wind up in the morgue! I have enough work to do!'_ what was she thinking?!

The flashing cursor mocked her. It laughed that she couldn't think of something to reply with. In a frenzied rush to get away, unbeknownst to her, she pressed the 'enter' key before closing the page.

~oOo~

Bing!

Sherlock reached into his pocket. He was sitting at a restaurant with John and was busy staring out the window, looking for a criminal. It appeared he had an email, something that was slightly inconvenient, but nonetheless, he had to check. It appeared someone had left a message on his site…

_Type your comment for this post here…_

Sherlock looked at the comment with confusion and then over at the name. Molly Hooper. It seems the number was 5 this time. She had to comment every few posts to avoid looking desperate. He rolled his eyes at her thought process and ignored the curious eyes of John.

_Well, Molly. I want to thank you so much for your moving comment. I never knew how emotional and nerve-racking __**type your comment for this post here… **__could be. Thank you for opening my eyes to the possibilities of the world. As for your case, I'd recommend choosing a different system or, alternatively, just avoid the comment section all together. I'll be stopping by the morgue soon; see you then. –SH_

~oOo~

Molly paled as she read the new post. What had she done?! A few moments later, the doors of the morgue were flung open. A blush overtook her face and she hurried away into the woman's bathrooms. She locked herself in a stall and kept her fingers crossed that Sherlock wasn't psychopathic enough to go in. Sure, he always says he's a sociopath (a fact Molly wasn't 100% sure on) but he did have his psychotic moments. She prayed this was not one of them.

There was a knock on the women's door.

"Molly, it's John. Sherlock wanted to come in but I told him he could not under any circumstance. We require your assistance in the morgue. Apparently it's urgent."

She sighed. Of course it was urgent. Of course. He just wanted to mock her further. Not only had he posted that on the internet, people were going to read it; people she knows. Molly unlocked the door and left to the morgue to see Sherlock smirking as he leant on her desk.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the mousy pathologist out of hiding from her little hole."

Molly blushed and walked away. "What do you want, Sherlock?" she asked, trying to put as much vigour into her voice as possible.

"Just wondering if you had any cases? Any _number_ of unusual deaths that you should _comment _on?"

Molly looked at the ground to try and cover up her blush as she shook her head. "Not today, Sherlock. I think it best you talk to Lestrade first in the future. Now, if you'll excuse me." she turned around and walked to her desk to question what she had done.

Sherlock stood with a smirk and looked over at an unimpressed John. "Schoolgirl crush," he chuckled before walking out of Barts, John running to keep up with him.

~oOo~

Molly lay in bed and sighed. How could Sherlock humiliate her like that? What type of person posts that for their own amusement and to humiliate her?

There was a knock on her front door and she sighed before getting up and answering it. Sherlock Holmes was standing there, so perfectly. His jacket seemed to billow a bit and his curls looked especially good for running fingers through. She felt a blush rise in her cheeks and Sherlock sighed.

"Yes, Molly, I have something to tell you. It's about my second last post."

Molly froze and frowned. The second last one was the one she accidently commented on.

"Oh."

He rolled his eyes and nodded. "I have to tell you my feelings. I think we've known each other long enough for me to tell you this with the knowledge you will appropriately act upon my words. Besides, you're a rather… intelligent and competent woman; you can easily fulfil my desire."

Molly felt her jaw drop a fraction and her eyebrows furrowed. "Alright, I'll do my best," she replied, trying not to sound too excited or suspicious.

"Excellent. Well, I'm not entirely sure where to start… I suppose it may have started a few years ago, not too long after I had met John. It was a little while before Moriarty and you began that… well, thing." He sighed and looked down at his shoes. "I haven't ever felt these things before; I've never felt so… you know. Heavens, this is awkward. I desire to leave, however I have a duty to you to finish this here and now. Molly Hooper. Toby has to go. I'm sorry, I just don't like him. He's, to be frank, a bit of a twa-"

"Wait, this is about _Toby_?" Molly's jaw dropped at the discovery. It sounded so much like he was going to profess his love for her. Instead, he was telling her he hates her cat.

"Yes."

Molly closed the door on his face and returned to bed. Sherlock is, to be frank, a bit of a twa


	10. The Uninspired Day (aka Send Me Prompts)

Sherlock looked down at the body and frowned. Nothing. He saw absolutely nothing. Horror and dread filled him as he stared down at the blank parchment. The man was lying on the ground in nothing but his pants. There was no blood or any sign of death. Sherlock picked up the man's arms and examined the body closer.

"Well?" Lestrade asked, his arms crossed as he stared down at Sherlock.

The man in question felt his jaw drop in horror. Goodness. He had no idea about anything to do with that dead man. What was Sherlock going to do?

"Look, Sherlock, I'm going to need some information so that we can, you know, catch a killer," Lestrade told the detective.

"Sherlock?" John asked, hoping his friend was ok.

"I-I-" Sherlock was dumbfounded.

John bent down and examined the man. He too was unable to find anything. He showed no signs of asphyxiation, poisoning, heart attack, a wound of any kind or any pain. The man lay as though he was asleep. It couldn't have been natural causes, a man screamed out before he was found and he was only a young man, too.

Sherlock and John exchanged a glance before looking up at Lestrade, an uncomfortable, apologetic smile on their faces.

~oOo~

Molly Hooper stared down on the dead body, a blank expression on her face. She woke up this morning to find Toby had vomited into her favourite shoes and, once she had looked after Toby, Molly decided to throw out the old pair. Some of her friends had laughed at those shoes anyway.

It didn't stop here. Her bus was late and she had to run to the next stop to avoid waiting half an hour. By the time she got to work, she was late. Very late. It had been almost 15 hours since she had last eaten anything. Her body was running on low, she could hardly concentrate.

The body was a blank canvas. She hadn't cut into him yet and she was staring him down. She almost wanted him to twitch his fingers so she could let him go and pretend that paperwork never came in. It was obvious how he died anyway. He was obese, high cholesterol, heart attack. See? Some days, she could rival Sherlock Holmes.

She had to cut him up, though, and she wasn't in the mood. She couldn't do it. She physically couldn't do it. She couldn't think about what to do.

~oOo~

Mycroft Holmes sat at his desk, a tart on a small plate beside him. He watched as Sherlock flew down the street. Mycroft was unsure of what case his brother was on, what criminal was harassing London today, nor why he was really watching his brother and boyfriend run down the street together. Mycroft looked at the tart and sighed. He wanted to eat it so badly and yet, he was on a diet. He couldn't win, could he? Nonetheless, he picked it up and bit into it.

~oOo~

Toby wandered around the street and watched as people rushed about. What fools. They could have all lived a cat like life of wandering the street and watching as the others wandered. They could live a peaceful life. Instead they bustled around as though it was fun. And his pet human, Molly, even came home crying some days and headed towards a bottle of wine in the fridge.

'_Poor Molly,'_ he thought and shook his head.

The street was bustling with people going left, right and centre. He wasn't usually one to go out, but when he did, he'd watch people and make up stories about them. Today, however, Toby couldn't find any inspiration at all.

~oOo~

Mrs Hudson was making tea in 221A. Sherlock was on another case and ran out yelling something about a blank paper- a man with no obvious signs of murder. Mrs Hudson would often ponder with tea about what these cases were about.

There was a man last week who would walk into the pub every Thursday at seven. One day, he didn't arrive. He hadn't been seen for a week and he arrived on Sherlock's front door, absolutely petrified. She had decided he was on his way to the pub when someone drove past him and offered a lift. The man had accepted and gone with him. They kept driving and the man was left miles away from the original destination. He'd stay there, drugged up and out of his mind. He'd return a week later under the impression is had only been a few minutes. The man was scared- the pub owner had asked him where he had been for the past week as he didn't arrive on the previous Thursday. The man had said he never missed a Thursday and he was there last week. The owner told him the date and he got scared, deciding to talk to Sherlock about it.

Of course, she was always wrong about what Sherlock's cases involved and especially what the man had come about or what had happened. But this time, she couldn't think about what had happened to the man, she had no spark that decided to twist her thoughts and come to a logical explanation.

~oOo~

Sherlock lay in bed that night and stared at the ceiling. How could he be so stupid? What was wrong with him? How did he not know what was wrong with that man? All signs suggested that he should have been able to- he was a high functioning sociopath, after all. Today was different and Sherlock Holmes detested it.

Someone could die again if the police couldn't find out whom. There would be blood on the hands of Sherlock Holmes if another person was killed.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hey, this was a little story that is a suggestion/pressure for you to submit some prompts to me. I've got some time and the willingness to do so. However, I've been stumped for inspiration and thought you'd listen to the Sherlock characters, if not me.**

**So, **_**please please please please please please please please please PLEASE**_ **be so kind as to send me a prompt because I will actually love you forever, you beautiful person, you!**

**A _HUGE _apology to Mega Sword for me transforming into Sherlock and turning them into Molly.**

**In other news, I fulfilled my life goal of running my fingers through curly hair. I wish to thank my friend for allowing me to harass his head while we were waiting for the end of school.**


	11. The Mycrolly Mishap

_Dedicated to Rosie McGuilicuty, sherlollypops and Spitfire303. Combined your ideas together. Happy to write another two with your separate ideas .Rosie: Mycroft asking Molly out + PFLAG. Spitfire303: ridiculing Molly's interests, "a very strange day" Sherlock has feels for Molly. Sherlollypops: jealous Sherlock- Sherlolly._

**_Warning: haven't completely finished editing. More will occur, content will stay the same._**

* * *

It was a very strange day for Sherlock Holmes. He had solved five of the three cases Lestrade gave him and it wasn't even 12. He puddled over to St Barts and snuck into the morgue.

"Ah, if it isn't Molly Hooper, the believer of the ridiculous idea that cats are, and I quote, the shiz."

Molly's head snapped up from the post-mortem she was performing. "Sherlock, what are you doing here? I'm busy, there's a sign on the door!" she exclaimed and placed the scalpel down.

"I was bored and thought I could come here and watch you… work? Is that really what you're doing? You're not doing a good job of it," he informed her. "well, I'll just sit in the corner, maybe listen to your iPod. I'll play Candy Crush for you, you don't do well anyway. Oh, wait, no. You have terrible music. Your sense of music is like your sense of fashion… and liking for cats."

Molly turned scarlet with his words. "Get. Out," she demanded through clenched teeth.

"What?"

"Get. Out. Now," she told him, trying not to scream then and there.

Sherlock took a few steps towards her, confusion scrawled across his face. "Molly, what's-"

"YOU NEVER THINK ABOUT ANYONE BUT YOURSELF!" she yelled at him, her finger poking his chest. "YOU WALTZ IN HERE LIKE YOU OWN THE JOINT AND DEMAND THINGS FROM ME! YOU STEAL ATTENTION FROM MY WORK AND YOU ACT LIKE SUCH A PRAT!"

She felt tears in her eyes and ran out of the morgue and to the lab. She huddled under her desk and the tears began to flit down her face.

Sherlock stood in the morgue and looked after her. Did she just- no. Not Molly Hooper. She would never yell at him and not for something so trivial. He tried to remember what he could deduce about her but found he had deleted it straight away. As important and brilliant as Molly is, she didn't have a place in his Mind Palace. She was his pathologist and that was it.

He had decided, based on her actions, she had a bad day before Sherlock walked in the door and hence she exploded. Well, what can you do? You win some, you lose some.

~oOo~

A few hours after Molly had emerged from her desk, her shift ended and she walked home. It was a nice day, after all. The sun was out and the birds were chirping. Nothing could ruin this shred of greatness that was her afternoon.

As she got further away from work and closer to home, a black car began to follow behind her. A few times, it would pass only to reemerge a few minutes later. After about half an hour of this suspicious activity, the car pulled up about ten meters away from her.

Molly Hooper froze. Her mind darted through what could happen next and every bit of her screamed to cross the road and get out of harm's way. The door opened and Molly looked around the deserted street. She stepped out onto the road when a familiar voice began to speak to her.

"Miss Hooper, I would highly recommend that you accompany me in a quick tour of the city." Molly felt her heart drop as she realised who it was.

The eldest Holmes boy. She turned around to see the man leaning on his umbrella. Her shoulders dropped and she nodded while stepping towards him. He motioned for her to get in first so she ducked under the roof and slid over to the furthest seat. Mycroft joined her a few seconds later.

The drove around London, passing a few historical sights and then began to drive further and further away. They ended up at a deserted building.

"I really hope you don't plan on killing me," Molly said in a flat voice.

Mycroft smiled and shook his head. "Let's be reasonable, please." Mycroft opened the door and left the car, waiting for Molly to join him. They entered the building and stood in the empty foyer. "I have a proposition for you, Miss Hooper."

"Doctor Hooper, actually, Mr British Government," she replied with ease.

"My apologies. I believe we ought to get together for a social event. I suggest dinner or afternoon tea."

Molly frowned at the man and cocked her head a fraction to the left. "I-I'm afraid I'm not quite catching on. I am, as Sherlock describes us ordinary people, a mere goldfish."

Mycroft laughed a little before smiling as warm as he could manage at Doctor Hooper. "Yes. I understand. I'm suggesting, doctor, that we go out on a date."

Molly began to flush. "A-a date? As in-"

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Yes, a date. The social event John Watson is rather familiar with. But, I suppose if you're not interested…"

"I-I never said that. I'm just shocked, to be honest. I never thought a Holmes boy would fancy me."

The umbrella in Mycroft's hands tapped the ground twice before he nodded. "I shall pick you up for dinner tomorrow night at seven. Please wear your best dress; we'll be eating at one of the most renowned restaurants in the world."

The duo walked out to the car and Mycroft opened the door for Molly. He motioned for her to enter and closed the door once she had. It sped off leaving Mycroft on the side of the room, watching as Molly Hooper returned to where she felt safe.

~oOo~

"What do you mean you're going to dinner with my brother?" Sherlock asked, his eyes narrowed as he studied his newest client.

"You bloody heard her. Mycroft asked her to dinner and she said yes. Now, will we continue?" John said as he sank into his armchair, a cup of tea in his hand.

"Fine. Go on."

"Right, er, yes. I was wondering if there was a double meaning behind this. It's unlike Mycroft. I've only met the man twice, you see."

Sherlock shrugged as he sat down and stared at his feet. "Sherlock?" John encouraged.

Sherlock sat in his mind palace and thought.

"Sherlock?" John prompted.

"He has no double meaning."

~oOo~

Sherlock walked into the morgue the next day to see Molly bustling through her work.

"How was it?" he asked, scaring her.

She gasped and jumped, her eyes were wide and filled with fear. "Sherlock! Goodness, you scared me!" she explained while trying to soothe his racing heart.

"I can see." He rolled his eyes and walked towards her. "How was it?"

"How was what?" she asked, confused by his sudden entrance and his bizarre questions.

"Your date with my brother."

Molly frowned and thought. "I suppose it was alright. I mean, we didn't really talk much, he deduced everything from me straight away or he had done his research. It mostly consisted of me asking occasional questions and him answering. Other than that, I admired the building and enjoyed dinner."

Sherlock's insides squirmed. What was his brother doing and why was he getting involved with Molly Hooper, the meek pathologist? He didn't know and to be frank, he didn't particularly care. He just didn't want Molly to get hurt again.

"Can I help you with something, Sherlock?" she asked before inserting the scalpel into the woman's torso.

"Not particularly. I suppose I'll talk to John. He may have an idea,. He's a doctor as well, anyway" he informed her before walking out, ignoring her farewell.

~oOo~

Mrs Hudson was so proud of what she had done. The wonderful woman had decided to support Sherlock and John and to let them know their friends are there for them and support them. She was hosting a PFLAG (parents and friends of lesbians and gays) meeting that afternoon and she was setting up. She had purchased her gay pride flags, trying her best to be like the other meetings she had attended. Everyone was excited to meet the happy couple. Mrs Turner, next door, had hosted a meeting the other week for her married ones. They were a kind and generous couple and said they'd come to support Sherlock and John, or as Mrs Hudson called them, Johnlock.

Her house was all rainbow. She thought John would appreciate that she was supporting him and Sherlock. She was there for them as a parent or as a friend, whichever they needed.

Sherlock had burst through the front door and began to stalk up the stairs. Mrs Hudson was eager to show Sherlock and ran out to the stairs.

"Sherlock! Before you hide in your room for multiple hours-" she started but was cut off by the doorbell. "Oh! That must be them! I'm hosting a meeting today!"

"I'll be upstairs making no noise and pretending I don't exist," he assured her and continued to jump up the remaining stairs.

"B- oh. Alright," her face fell as she walked towards the door. She composed herself and opened the door for the visitor.

"Mrs Turner! How wonderful to see you!" she beamed.

Sherlock sat in his room, glowering about Molly Hooper. Ok, Sherlock had thought about how Hooper and Holmes shared the first two letters and wouldn't be a hassle for Molly. He never considered Molly changing her surname for Mycroft, though. In what universe did Mycroft care for goldfish? This one, so it seemed.

His first goldfish just had to be Molly Hooper, the woman Sherlock developed feelings for. He had never developed feelings and here he was threatening to develop feelings for the sake of Molly Holmes- uh, Hooper... No. Mycroft was up to something and Sherlock did not like it one bit.

Mycroft answered on the third ring, out of breath again. Exercise… unless- no. "Sherlock. What a surprise."

"Mycroft, what are you playing at?"

"Well, good day to you two, Sherlock. I am rather well, thank you. And yourself? How wonderful. Now, it's rather odd of you to call me, is there anything I could assist you with? What am I playing at? Why, my darling brother, I'm afraid I don't understand what you're asking. See, I don't know what I'm supposedly playing…."

"Molly, Mycroft, what are you doing about Molly?"

"I had thought about it and I may ask her on another date. She's a friendly woman and a good goldfish. She doesn't pretend she's ahead of me. She is, as I believe the term is, going with 'the flow'. She's a reasonable person to choose as a companion," Mycroft informed his brother, eyeing off a cheesecake.

Sherlock did not like that answer at all. "Why did you ask her on a date? That has confused me the most."

"Sherlock, sometimes people want a companion. There's a certain learning that comes with relationships. I'm sure you've learnt this with Mrs Hudson and John. Someone begins to care and sometimes, you begin to care in return. Here I am, Sherlock, learning and developing. Is there an issue with learning, Sherlock?"

Sherlock sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Just… don't hurt Molly. Please, Mycroft. Don't hurt her."

The eldest Holmes frowned and raised an eyebrow, uncaring that his younger brother couldn't see. "Why? She's not your goldfish, why do you care so much?"

He had had enough. Sherlock hung up the phone and left threw it on his bed. He needed to clear his head. After shrugging on his coat, Sherlock walked down the stairs and approached the front door.

"Oh, Sherlock, dear! Could you come here a moment?" Mrs Hudson called from her kitchen.

"I'm afraid not, Mrs Hudson. The lives of each person in London are in jeopardy," he yelled while running out of the building. He passed John who went to open his mouth to ask what ask going on but Sherlock beat him and hailed a cab. "I'll be back later."

John walked into the flat building and went to greet Mrs Hudson. His jaw dropped once he had opened the kitchen door and found Mrs Hudson pouring tea for three people. She was covered in rainbow and her house had been pooped on by a unicorn. Not one space was blank.

"M-Mrs Hudson, I- what?"

"Oh hello, John!" she greeted and put the tea down. "We were having a PFLAG meeting. I'm waiting for a few more people but we've decided to have a cup of tea before then."

"I'm sorry, a what meeting?"

"Parents and Friend of Lesbians and Gays. I'm showing you and Sherlock that I support you both and I'm here for you as a parent or a friend." She smiled at the doctor who shook his head.

He couldn't bring himself to be angry at her, and yet it had to be said. "Mrs Hudson, how many times do we have to tell you that we're not gay? We're friends and flatmates and that is it. I have never had, and never will, feel an attraction for Sherlock Holmes. I am completely straight."

She smirked and winked at him. "Alright, dear."

John sighed in annoyance and walked out of the kitchen. Mrs Hudson explained to the others that Sherlock and John kept their relationship secretive.

~oOo~

To be honest, Molly had a great time with Mycroft Holmes the night before. Mycroft was an intelligent, wonderful man who showed her some real respect. When he had called asking if she'd like another date, she was thrilled to say yes.

Mycroft Holmes was the coldest of the two Holmes brothers. He was far more mature than his younger brother but there was a sense of naivety that Mycroft had that Molly had never seen before. It was intriguing and pulled her in. She understood that he had taken one look at her and knew her life story and everything about her. She understood that she'd never be able to do that to him, but god how she'd love to try. There are some things that can't be learnt in a book or online. Some things needed to be experienced and relationships are one of those things.

Why was Molly pondering on this?

~oOo~

Sherlock pranced into the lab and sat down at a table. "Doctor Hooper, how are you?"

The woman looked over at him and frowned. "You're in a cheery mood, Sherlock. Who's died and how many cases has it inflicted?"

He let out a sarcastic laugh and rolled his eyes. "Not a cheery mood. I thought perhaps my brother would teach you to understand moods. Maybe drill a sense of humour into you as well."

"Actually, the funniest thing happened, Sherlock. We didn't talk about deducing. Besides, it seems my "sense of humour" is only activated when you were around," she informed him and raised her eyebrows. "Deduce that, Sherlock Holmes."

~oOo~

Mrs Hudson smiled at her guests and handed them a plate of biscuits. Sherlock always demanded she had them but not these biscuits because "they're the bad ones. One job, Mrs Hudson", as Sherlock had grumbled when he bit into the less than quality biscuit. Her guests appeared to like them and the only thing that ruined the taste was a certain detective barging into 221B.

"Sherlock, come in! Everyone, this is Sherlock. His partner is John and they live here together," she told the members of PFLAG. "Johnlock," Mrs Hudson whispered.

"Mrs Hudson! For the last time, John and I are not a couple! We're both straight and I am in love with Molly Hooper! Just drop it!" he yelled and stormed up to his bedroom.

Everyone looked at Mrs Hudson who looked shocked. She composed herself as fast as possible composed herself and smiled. "They're still denying it, but it's rather obvious that they're together."

Her newfound friends nodded at her and returned to their tea and biscuits.

~oOo~

After two days since their last date, Molly was getting ready to see Mycroft again. He had sent a text to her asking her if she'd be interested in another date. She had brought a red dress for the occasion and new makeup. She was just about to finish her eyeliner when the doorbell rang. Frightened, she jumped and the pencil slipped, stabbing her eye.

"Shit!" she yelled before dropping the pencil. "Just a minute!"

She slipped her earrings in and walked to the door. She opened it to see a familiar silhouette standing there.

"Sherlock. What a surprise?" Molly said, her tone bitter.

"Molly, you can't go out with my brother," he told her and she crossed her arms.

"Alright then, Sherlock. Why not?" she asked.

"For one of the first times in my entire life, I'm having feelings for someone. I think I've developed some feelings for you, Molly. I understand that I've been cruel to you for years but, please, don't go out for dinner tonight."

In reply, she closed the door on his face. Molly returned to her bathroom and finished getting ready to see Mycroft. Sherlock was not going to ruin her date.

Yet, she couldn't think about how she felt about Sherlock. She had fawned after him for years and here she was with a jealous Sherlock and an interested Mycroft. This had never been Molly's life and this wasn't what she wanted. Being with Mycroft (even if it was only one date) had pulled her away from her Sherlock fantasies. She saw for what he was without the illusion: a child who threw temper tantrums like they were Frisbees.

~oOo~

When Mycroft next saw Molly he nodded.

"I suppose he's told you, then?"

Molly frowned and cocked her head. "What on earth do you mean?"

"My darling brother has spoken to you about his "feelings", I see. I can tell by your eye makeup and the creases in your dress." Molly looked down at her dress and a small smile slipped on her face.

"I see. What else have you got on me?" she asked with a teasing smile.

He returned it and offered her his arm. Once she had taken it, he led her towards the car waiting for them. "I can see how you're feeling about this. Conflicted, you've got two Holmes boys on your tail, what do you do? What do you say?" Molly nodded at him and slid into the car first. After the car began to go, they started their conversation again.

"You aren't surprised by this, nor ask how I know…" Mycroft trailed off and Molly just nodded.

"I would be more surprised if you had gotten something wrong. Of the two of you, you're clearly the smarter, especially when it comes to deductions."

Mycroft looked at the woman and frowned. This was the woman that Sherlock had developed feelings for and she was such a perfect, wonderful woman. What went on in her head to convince her that Sherlock was a suitable partner?

~oOo~

Sherlock lay on the sofa, pretending he was in his mind palace. His fingers were in a steeple and faked REM (Rapid Eye Movement). John had walked in on him and left as fast as he had entered. Excellent. People don't like to disturb Sherlock when he's in his mind palace and today was no exception.

How could Mycroft do this to him? Why would Mycroft do this in the first place? He had always been anti-goldfish and here he was dating Molly Hooper. Of all people, he chose Molly Hooper! What puzzled Sherlock further was Molly's infatuation with him. It had decreased since Mycroft commenced communication with her. Sherlock would have to dwell on this and see what he could deduce.

There was only one thing Sherlock was sure of. He was jealous of his brother. He was jealous of the man who seemed to have captivated Molly Hooper and stole away Sherlock's attention. He wanted Molly's attention back on him and he wanted to be the only Holmes brother in her life. Now, he had to think about how he was going to do that.

~oOo~

It was a typical day at the morgue and was very quiet. No-one had died overnight in this area. Molly just had some paper work to fill out and an autopsy the last girl had forgotten to do. All in all, this shift was going to be a quiet one.

The doors to the morgue flew open and someone ran in. "Molly Hooper!" their deep voice called out.

The woman in question was in the lab and hadn't heard the call from the man downstairs. He ran up to the lab and looked around frantically.

"Sherlock, what are you doing here? Lestrade called me just as I started to let me know he didn't have any cases for you and John said he'd text me if you were on your way. So, Sherlock, what are you doing here?" Molly asked and crossed her arms.

"I-I just came to give you these." He held out his hand and produced a bouquet of snapdragons. "I hope you like them," he told her before turning around and beginning to walk out.

"Wait. What is this? Why are you giving me flowers?"

Sherlock froze mid step and looked at her. "Those are snapdragons because I know they're your favourite."

Molly's eyebrows furrowed at this sentence. "My favourite flowers are daisies."

~oOo~

After Sherlock had blown that one, he returned home. To Mrs Hudson's happiness, she ran into him before he had a chance to run upstairs and be anti-social for the rest of the day.

"Sherlock, dear, I have something you may be interested in," she told him, clipboard in hand.

"Is it better biscuits for my tea? I'm not overly interested at the moment, Mrs Hudson. I have important things on my mind." _'Such as how I can get back Molly Hooper.'_

"Well, actually, Sherlock, I have started a petition and I think you'd be very interested! I already started one online and now I'm going to be taking to the streets in a bid for more signatures. I am going to legalise same sex marriage. Won't that be wonderful, Sherlock? You and John can finally get married!"

"Mrs Hudson, please. John and I are not in a seuxal relationship. We are friends and that is all. And my understanding is that same sex marriage is being legalized anyway. John is going on a date tonight and I, on the other hand, am trying to figure out how to woo a woman so please, unless you have a- oh. Oh that's it!" Sherlock ran up the stairs leaving a confused and slightly offended Mrs Hudson behind.

~oOo~

_Molly, would you be interested in dinner tomorrow night? -MH_

_Alright. What time? x_

_7:30pm. I'll arrange a car to pick you up. I have an appointment that may run a little over time. -MH_

_That's alright. I understand. I'll see you tomorrow, then. x_

"She hasn't really fallen for it, you know," John told his friend.

"Actually, she has and actually, it all makes sense. See, Mycroft often has meetings, he _is _the British Government after all. Now, as to the texts, he was/is at the dentists and unable to call. He may be in unable to speak properly by tonight, so therefore he can't arrange for dinner with a woman when he can't even speak. He chooses tomorrow night knowing that he'll be feeling better and that there won't be a problem with his speech. Overall, Molly will consider some of these and decide to think that it _is _Mycroft and therefore, she'll get ready."

"It's not the usual number."

Sherlock looked down at the phone and frowned. "He doesn't usually call or text."

~oOo~

Molly looked down at the phone and shook her head. What was Sherlock playing at? Mycroft had gone to the dentist a few days ago, he didn't need to return. Furthermore, he'd told Molly that he didn't take appointments past four and his meetings had to wrap up before five. This was clearly not Mycroft, even if she ignored the new number. Besides, he was always in the car with her when he picked her up. He wouldn't send a car for her when it didn't suit him.

_Good try, Sherlock. I'm not that thick. -Molly_

_Excuse me? -SH_

_The fake texts from Mycroft. He went to the dentist last week. He doesn't take appointments after four and meetings always finish before five. Good try but not good enough. -Molly._

_I don't know what you're talking about, Molly. -SH_

She rolled her eyes and let it be. She didn't need to argue with him about what he had done. If anything, Molly was a bit disappointed that he had thought she was so thick.

Meanwhile, Sherlock was looking at his phone with both disappointment and anger.

"Did she reply?" John asked from his armchair.

"No. She was too smart. She knows the texts were fake. She talked about dentists and times for meetings and for appointments. Although, she signed with her name, not an x as she usually does."

John rolled his eyes as he turned the page. "Oh no! What will London do? Molly Hooper out thought Sherlock Holmes and turned his trap around! Oh no! She signed with her name when talking to Sherlock but an x when texting her boyfriend! What is Moriarty up to _this _time?" John replied with sarcasm, earning a pillow being thrown at his head. "Oi!"

"This is mildly serious, John. Don't turn this into some sick joke," Sherlock grumbled before stalking to his room.

Again, John rolled his eyes at Sherlock. For the brightest man his age, he sure could be a dumbass sometimes.

~oOo~

Mycroft leaned back in his chair and looked over at his phone. It was a Wednesday and his last meeting for the day was at four. He still had three hours until he was free to do as he desired. He had almost finished his work and he began to ponder. Would Molly be interested in another date?

After a few minutes, he decided it would be the best thing for him to do. He picked up the phone and dialed her number.

"Hello, Molly speaking."

Mycroft smiled at her voice. "Good afternoon, Molly. How is your day treating you?"

Molly paused before smiling. "My day has been pretty good. How has your day been? Or is it confidential?" she teased.

"I'm afraid so. It's not a day I could really discuss over the phone."

"Uh oh, that sounds as though we may need to talk face to face, then."

"Well, that is why I'm calling you, Molly. I was wondering if you'd be interested in going out to dinner with me tonight? I'd suggest a movie before hand, but I'm afraid I'd possibly spoil the experience for you. Sometimes, I can act rather Sherlocky... or childish, whichever you prefer."

Molly began to laugh. To be honest, she much prefered Mycroft to Sherlock. Mycroft was a better person than Sherlock who would sabotage her day, just to see what she'd do. Mycroft, on the other hand, had flowers sent into her office just so he could see her smile at dinner that night.

Of course, different circumstances, different reactions, but nonetheless, Mycroft was the only Holmes brother who seemed to give a damn about her and he was the only person to be interested in her for the last few months. She'd be stupid not to choose Mycroft over Sherlock.

Everything had changed once Mycroft had asked her out and to be honest, both Molly and Mycroft enjoyed the change that it had brought. Molly was, in all honesty, excited to see where this would take her and where this would take Mycroft.

"I'd love to have dinner with you."

"Wonderful. I'll pick you up at six?"

Molly bit her lip, a smile still on her face. "Sounds great. I'll see you then."

"Indeed. Enjoy the rest of the day, Molly."

~oOo~

Sherlock sat down in his armchair and narrowed his eyes at John.

"Tell me, John, how did you get a girlfriend?"

"Oh, thanks, Sherlock," he replied as he turned the newspaper.

"That wasn't a snarky comment, John. I don't see how it could be. Anyway, tell me," Sherlock replied with impatience.

"Why on earth would you want to know that, Sherlock?"

Sherlock rubbed his temple and sighed. "Because, John, of a case, John, that's why, John," he replied, ignoring the horrible English sentence structure he used.

"Becaws, Jawn, ova case, Jawn, that's wai, Jawn! Beautiful English for an Englishman," John mocked and flipped the page.

"Are you going to tell me or not?" Sherlock barked and John dropped the paper.

"Wow, you're actually serious?"

"Yes, John. Now please, tell me," Sherlock sighed.

"Er, alright…"

~oOo~

"Molly Hooper, you look like a work of art this morning," Sherlock greeted as he entered the morgue.

"Do you want to use the lab?" she asked, her eyes glued on the body in front of her and where her scalpel was going.

"What? No. Why would you say that?"

"You compliment me when you want something," she replied and Sherlock frowned.

"Am I not allowed to tell you I think you're beautiful? Is that not ok?" he asked.

Molly rolled her eyes and shook her head. "It's weird. You haven't done it genuinely yet."

"Well, that was genuine, so…"

"Well, that's new, so…"

"I just think you look beautiful and you smell good too. Is that Bill Blass?"

Molly looked up at Sherlock with mild fright on her face. "Did you just _guess _my perfume?"

Shit shit shit shit shit. Nothing was going according to plan. He had to abort the mission… but how?

"It's lingering around the room, hard to miss. And it wasn't a guess, Molly. I don't guess. I knew. I just have a shred of respect for you that I'd ask and not sound like a creep." The look on her face indicated that Sherlock had dug himself further into a hole. How about a joke? People love jokes…

Molly looked down at her work again and sighed. "If that's all, Sherlock…"

"Actually, it's not… I have one more thing to say. A duck walks into a bar, the bartender says, "What'll it be?" The duck doesn't say anything because it's a duck."

The duo looked at each other, waiting for the other to say something. After a few moments, Molly spoke.

"Is that it?"

"Seriously? Not even a chuckle? You're meant to laugh, it was a joke!" Sherlock sighed and sat down on the ground like a child.

"What? What do you mean? Why was I supposed to laugh?"

"Because John said you'd laugh if I told you a joke."

"I'm still not picking up what you're putting down. Why did you tell me a joke and why did John say I'd laugh?"

"Because I think I 'm having feelings for you and John was helping me to win you over." Sherlock frowned at the ground and sighed once more before standing up. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come today. It was inappropriate and I understand that you don't feel the same way. I'll leave you to your work," he told her and walked away, his head hung and his eyebrows furrowed.

Molly watched after him and frowned. Wait, what?

~oOo~

From one look, Mycroft could see Molly had a disturbing visit from his younger brother.

"Good evening, Molly. You look stunning today," he told her when she had gotten into the car.

"Thank you! It's a new dress," she told him, looking down at the red dress that clung to her body.

"I know. You always wear a new dress when we go out to dinner..." Mycroft trailed off and arched an eyebrow at Molly who flushed bright red.

"Erm, yes. I don't have an awful lot of dresses and I want to look good when we go out," she told him.

"Well, you always look beautiful," he reassured her and winked.

After her face increased in colour Molly tried to trail the conversation somewhere else. "So, where are we going tonight?"

"I'm afraid a theatre production before we go out for dinner. I thought you might like to see a play as something different. I'm sure I won't ruin it for you. At least, I'll do my best not to. Of course, if you'd rather we did something else, I'm happy to do that instead. Besides, it's Shakespeare. I can't give you any spoilers with it being my fault and, furthermore, I'd rather mumble the words than make comments."

Molly smiled at him and thought back to Sherlock today. She felt rather bad going out with Mycroft when she had learnt of Sherlock's emotions towards her. However, she was going to enjoy this night and ponder it later. "No, a play sounds wonderful. Thank you, Mycroft."

~oOo~

"I had a great time tonight," Molly told Mycroft as they stood outside her door.

"Yeah, a likely story," Sherlock grumbled from across the road.

"As did I. I would love to have another date like this with you again," Mycroft added.

"Oh I'm sure you would. A play and then dinner. At least you had something to talk about and you weren't deducing her all night." Sherlock sat across the road staring at the couple, binoculars in hand as he studied their lips and understood what they were saying.

"Would you like to come in?" Molly asked to which Sherlock sighed.

"Molly, what are you doing? Don't invite him in. He'll denounce your entire house. Look at it. I bet you forgot to clean up. Oh, there's the blush, I'm right. Dammit, Molly!" Sherlock attempted to keep his voice low but knew he was doing a bad job.

"As much as I'd love to, I don't think I should give my brother the displeasure of seeing me enter your house. I don't know if you can see, but he's just over there," Mycroft said and pointed into the bushes were Sherlock hid.

"Oh, yes, I see. Isn't that more of a reason to come in, then?" Molly teased.

"Well, as much as I'd love to harass my brother further, I feel it would be better if I headed off anyway. Thank you for joining me for a nice night. I had a great time, Molly." Mycroft leaned towards her and pressed a light kiss to her lips. "Until next time." He gave a slight bow and winked at her before walking back to his car. He raised a hand to her before sliding out of her view.

She waved down at him before looking at where Sherlock hid. After giving an obscene finger gesture, she entered her flat and locked the door behind her.

"Shit," Sherlock cursed before crawling out of his hiding place and rushing to find a cab to take him back to Baker Street.

~oOo~

For the next six months, Sherlock had begun to accept that he wasn't going to be the big thing in Molly Hooper's life anymore. She was no longer going to blush when they made eye contact, she was no longer going to stutter around him. She was going to become a person who respected him and was his friend. That was all. She was almost the female John in his life. Mycroft and Molly had become rather serious. He began visits to work and they began having lunch together.

Molly was having the time of her life. Mycroft was perfect and life in general was perfect. On their six month anniversary, Molly decided to invite Mycroft over for dinner. She took the day off work and spent it cooking up a storm to make everything perfect for Mycroft.

~oOo~

"Your brother came to the morgue today," Molly informed Mycroft as they ate the lasagne Molly made (from scratch).

"I'm sorry to hear that. What did he want? I didn't think there were any cases."

"Bored. He's taken to visiting me when he's bored. It annoys me. Can you ask him to stop?"

"My darling, I'll do my best but he won't listen to me."

Molly smiled and nodded. "Anyway, he says-"

~_magic flashback~_

"How's my Mikey?" Sherlock asked as he touched the glassware on the lab bench.

"I'm sorry, who?" Molly glanced over at the items Sherlock touched and made a note to clean them before using them. He could contaminate her work.

"My brother Mike or Mikey. What do you call him?"

"His name is Mycroft. I call him his name," she replied, using self control to not swat Sherlock's hand away from the objects around him.

"Everyone calls him Mikey. Mummy and Jenine call him Mikey," Sherlock told her, his voice ticking her off.

"Yes, well, I'm neither his mother nor your ex-girlfriend, so I think it's reasonable for me to call my boyfriend his name, which is Mycroft." She rolled her eyes and continued her experiment in silence. "And he's fine, by the way. He was feeling a little ill yesterday but I made him some soup and I think he's better."

"You are the only person to call him Mycroft. The whole world calls him Mikey," Sherlock added for no particular reason.

"Your family does not count as the whole world. I know for a fact that the government doesn't call him Mikey and neither does Mycroft. Can you just drop it? It's not important."

"Do you call him something else? A pet name, perhaps?"

"WILLIAM SHERLOCK HOLMES! GET YOUR NOSE OUT OF MY BUSINESS! IT IS NOT YOURS TO PLAY WITH AND HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU!" Molly snapped before dropping her work and walking out. "I'm going to lunch."

_~end of magic flashback~_

"God. Mikey. Eurgh." Mycroft's nose crinkled while he stared into his food.

"It's absurd. I just can't with Mikey. It doesn't even suit you."

"Thank you. You're possibly the only person that I respect who thinks that." Molly smiled at Mycroft who raised his eyebrows, his gaze still fixed on his food. "You did an excellent job, by the way."

"Thank you," Molly said, her cheeks turning pink.

~oOo~

It had been a year since Mycroft had first asked Molly to be his girlfriend and to commemorate the day, a romantic dinner for two was planned at the restaurant they had their first date at.

"I've got a present for you. You may reject it if you don't like the idea." Mycroft pulled a small box from his pocket and slid it over to Molly. The woman smiled at her boyfriend before picking it up and taking off the lid. Sitting inside was a key, a single key, with the word _Holmes_ engraved at the top. "It's the spare key to my house. I was wondering if you'd be interested in moving in with me. We see each other numerous times a day and I should very much like to wake up and see you in the morning and kiss you goodnight before we fall asleep. But, of course, if you don't want to, that's perfectly ok. I understand that-"

Molly placed her hand on his, silencing him with the single movement. "I'd love to, Mike," she teased.

Mycroft moved his hand away from hers and sighed. "I'm afraid we'll have to break up, Doctor Hooper. I can't forgive you for that," he told her.

She laughed and shook her head while a smile formed on Mycroft's face. He loved seeing Molly happy. He felt so warm inside when she laughed or smiled at him. She leaned over and captured his lips with her own. They both found comfort in the idea of living together. They were so comfortable together and both enjoyed the company of the other.

Over the next, Mycroft and his car made frequent visits at Molly's flat to take the things she wanted to his house. Anything they didn't need or want, they were donating to charity, as per Molly's request.

As for the house itself, Molly fell in love with it the first time she saw it. It was stunning and so Mycroft. She felt so privileged to be at such a high security and secretive place. For security reasons, their mail would have to be delivered to Mycroft's office. On one hand, it was inconvenient living with Mycroft but at the same time, Molly love it.

There was an added thrill of waking up with Mycroft's arms around her waist or being woken up with small kisses pressed against her neck. On the weekends, they lay in bed together for hours on end, just holding each other. They relocated to the couch where they cuddled and watched a film or some telly. Two years ago, if you had told Mycroft that was what he'd be doing, he'd send a government hitman out for you or manage to find illegal documents on your computer.

~oOo~

Sherlock Holmes was bitter. He had never been so jealous and infuriated in his entire life. It was _not _meant to be Molly and Mycroft. It was always supposed to be Sherlock and Molly. But he had missed his chance and now, he was alone. John was engaged to Mary and Mrs Hudson had stopped attending those ridiculous PFLAG meetings. Sherlock was alone, though. Molly had her prince charming and it was not Sherlock. She was in love with the wrong Holmes.

On a regular basis, John told Sherlock not to be so petty. He had had a chance to be in a relationship with Molly for years and if he had really wanted to be in a relationship with her, he'd have done something by now. Sherlock was a fool. He'd give anything for Molly to leave Mycroft. However, he also didn't want to ruin Molly's happiness. If Mycroft was what she needed, then she should have him. It was wrong of Sherlock to try and pull her away from a relationship that she was happy in and that she deserved. Of course, Sherlock would say no-one deserves Mycroft but he made her happy and that was all that was important.

* * *

"Sherlock?" John prompted as Sherlock sat in his mind palace.

His eyes snapped open and he looked to see Molly sitting in the client chair, John sitting in his own armchair and Sherlock frowned.

"Mycroft double meaning?" he asked, looking at Molly. "You're here to know if Mycroft is serious about this date?"

Molly's lips turned down and she nodded. "That's why we've been here for the past five minutes."

"Oh, excellent. You haven't gone on a date yet, have you?"

"Erm, no? Sherlock, what-"

"Yes, there is a double meaning. It's a message, to me. Don't mind what it is. No, I don't suggest that you go out with him. There's a fifty percent chance that the two of you will get married in approximately two years if you do take this date. On the other hand, there's the 50 percent chance that he's bluffing his emotions, as he does being the British Government. If you're that desperate to go on a date, I'll take you to see a theatre production this weekend."

Both Molly and John stared at Sherlock with shock.

"Wait, did-"

"Yes, Molly, I did just ask you on a date. Any more questions?" he asked. Both his friends shook their heads and Sherlock stood. "Right. Now, if you'll excuse me."

He winked at Molly before he left the room. Sherlock felt he made the right decision. He had run through the most plausible result of a date between Molly and Mycroft and he could not have that. It's supposed to be Sherlolly, not Mycrolly/Mollcroft.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys!**

**Please tell me I didn't confuse the fragapples out of you lot.**

**So how was that? I hope you enjoyed that. That was a few days of work (and over 7K words). I hope it's alright for me to combine prompts... if not, I'll totally write a new one for everyone I used today.**

**Actually, funny I mention that, I've figured out how to do polls (I think) and I currently have one going and I'll start a new one soon with which prompt to upload next. They're blind polls at the moment but I may change it so you guys can see what my other readers are interested in and what will happen. Feedback for that is great.**

**Apologies to the beautiful people written at the top of this fic. I didn't let you know they were being combined. Understandable if you're angry. Feel free to PM me or leave a comment in the reviews requesting I re-write your prompt. Actually, if anyone reads one of the prompts I combined and want to see that alone, please comment and I'll totally do it.**

**Thank you all for every and all prompt sent in! I love them and I've got some great ideas for them! I haven't had a chance to write any others because this one has been time consuming and a joy to write.**

**As per usual, please leave a prompt or two for me, I'll really appreciate them. If you PM it, let me know if you want me to dedicate it to you or just as an anonymous reader.**

**Stay beautiful, guys!**

**x**


	12. The Secret

_Dedicated to rescuemechinboy, runyoucleverboyandremember4321 and Blue Turtle of AWESOMENESS. All three requests were similar: Sherlolly argues how to tell John+Mary, John walks in on Sherlolly and harassment ensures, and Sherlock gets injured on a case with Molly there to help him, they kiss and their friends see. I think they're relatively the same, my apologies if you disagree (tell me in reviews or PM me), I'll re-write each prompt._

* * *

It had all ended about six months after the wedding of John and Mary and it began three months prior to the end. Sherlock Holmes the unpredictable had lived up to his name. The day Sherlock had stalked into the morgue alone was the moment it had all started.

"Molly," he called out, startling her in the lab.

She rushed down to the morgue and looked at the detective. He stood in the exit and she stood in the middle of the room, concern written all over her face. Sherlock, on the other hand, had an odd expression. He looked at her with mild curiosity and slight relief while his eyes screamed fear. "Sherlock, what's wrong?" Molly asked, keeping a level head. If he was injured or worse, now was not the time to be blushing and giggling that Sherlock Holmes had come to see her alone. "What's happened, Sherlock?"

He walked towards her with his large strides and stopped inches in front of her. After a deep sigh he bit his lip and stared into her eyes. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. "Molly Hooper."

"Are you injured? Have you been shot? This is the morgue, not the best place for recovery. I'll call for help and get you to a ward." Molly stripped of his jacket and spiralled around and away from him, trying to look for blood on his white shirt. As she reached the phone her face dropped. Mimicking him, her eyebrows furrowed and she crossed her arms. "I can't see any blood. What have you done?" Her face changed as she thought about what she had witnessed. No, she was alarmed. Her eye widened and her eyebrows flew up to her hair line. "Sherlock! Don't you _dare_ tell me you have to fake your death again! Oh, what will John say? What will people think? William Sherlock Holmes, what on _earth _have you done?!"

Sherlock sighed and crossed his arms. "I'm not faking my death again, Molly. That was a once in a life time opportunity. The next time I die, it will be for good. And if not, you'll be the first to know... or second, depends on how involved I have to get Mycroft," Sherlock told her.

The pathologist was confused. This was the most confused she had ever been around Sherlock Holmes. "Then... why are you here?" She stepped away from the phone and walked little steps towards Sherlock. "Why are you in my morgue alone with no cases?"

"I came here to talk to you, Molly. I have something rather urgent I have to say to you." The duo stood a few feet from each other, confusion on one face, amusement on the other.

"Oh?" Molly felt her face pink as she realised what she had done. "Oh." She was a fool. Jumping to conclusions. Although, to be frank, that was one conclusion that was plausible. There was a great chance Sherlock would run to her for help when he was injured. He had done it before and he sure as hell would do it again.

"Yes, indeed. And no, as you just told yourself, not a foolish thought. Molly, I have been sitting in my mind palace for hours while I pieced places of memories and feelings together to create a new room. I didn't know what the room meant or what it was until I entered it at the end of three hours. Inside I found a montage, if you will, of our friendship and our relationship together. After further extensive thinking, I have come to a conclusion of what I think it means. Molly Hooper, I think I love you."

Sherlock's amused look disappeared and was replaced with a blank stare, waiting for Molly to reply. She stood, still confused, staring into his eyes that screamed fear. This was the first time Sherlock had ever told anyone how he feels about them and Molly could tell that. Molly couldn't tell if this was real or a fantasy. Although, when it was a day dream, they'd be snogging by now. She bit her bit before pinching her arm.

"Wait, this is real?" she asked, coming out of her confused trance. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Sherlock. "What's going on, Sherlock?"

He smirked at her, realising he had the upper hand and he had the power in this situation. He stepped closer to her and closed the distance, pressing his lips against hers.

~oOo~

For weeks they snuck over to each other's flat for dinner and a snogging session. John, Mary, Mycroft, Mrs Hudson and all of the guys at Scotland Yard were oblivious to the shenanigans going on. When they were in public, Sherlock treated her the same as per usual, earning blushes and stutters in return. On occasion, Sherlock would wink at her, an event most common when Molly made him coffee. When they were in private, Molly felt butterflies in her tummy and Sherlock enjoyed staring into her eyes. Some nights, he'd stay with her and they'd fall asleep together, enjoying the feeling of the other in their arms. When John asked where he was, Sherlock responded with "a case, John, required extensive searching. The homeless network were otherwise preoccupied, you see?".

Molly and Sherlock spent nights arguing with each other about how to tell their friends about their relationship. Molly didn't want to hide it; she wanted to be able to kiss him when she gave him his coffee or hug him before he left. Sherlock, on the other hand, didn't want John and Mycroft to talk about it. It was easier being the heartless virgin than taking their taunts of Molly. As an apology to the nights where Molly would cry and shout at Sherlock to stop being such a prat, he'd take her out on a case. Of course, he only did so if it was going to be safe.

Today was one of those ever now and then days. It was a Saturday morning and John was otherwise preoccupied with Mary. Molly and Sherlock set off to follow the last criminals in the Moriarty web. With every meter they went away from the heart of London, Sherlock's thought of this case being safe was diminished by roughly 1.75%, a figure he wouldn't tell Molly. Instead, he sent a text to Lestrade.

_On a case, going to be dangerous. I'll text you the location if there's trouble. -SH._

"Sherlock, I'm not too sure about this... I don't feel very good about being so far from London," Molly told him after about half an hour of driving away from London.

"Don't worry, Molly. I'm here and I won't let you get hurt," he reassured her despite her grimace. He sighed and brought his arms around her. "Molly Hooper, I promise you that you will not be hurt. If everything goes perfectly tonight, which I'm 100% sure it will, we'll tell everyone about us, ok?" Molly rested her head against his shoulder and sighed.

"How certain are you really, Sherlock?" she asked. There was a pause as Sherlock thought. He didn't say a thing for a few minutes until Molly jabbed him in the ribs. "Please, Sherlock, how sure are you about tonight?"

"I'm almost 99.25 percent sure, Molly. Don't worry, I'll always be right beside you and I won't let you come in harm's way, alright?" Sherlock told her. Of course, he never actually said what the statistic was for. He was 99.25 percent sure that something bad would happen and only 1.75% sure that one of them wouldn't make it out of this alive. He would stay by her side, however, and he wouldn't let anyone harm her. If they even lay a finger on her, Sherlock would kill them. She was not going to die for his stupidity.

_Sherlock, what the fuck does that mean? Where are you? Answer me, Sherlock! -GL._

_No, Gavin, don't worry just yet. We're fine, still in the cab. Hunting down the last of the network and then we'll be back to report on the incident. -SH_

_Are you with John? I thought he was with Mary and the baby? You two don't do Saturdays. -GL._

_I'm not with John. Hopefully, you won't have to know who it is if everything goes alright. Now, please, you're tipping off people of a problem. -SH_

Molly looked over at Sherlock with fear. There were no way his texts were anything good. He even glanced down at her every now and again, sending her, what he considered, a reassuring smile that had Molly biting her cheek. He sighed and looked over at the woman to had fear etched into her face and oozing out of every pore.

"Please, trust me. I won't let anything happen to you." He leaned down and captured her lips with his own. "I promise you, Molly."

~oOo~

For hours, they tiptoed behind four criminals as they searched for something they called the "golden trove", an artifact Sherlock was well aware did not exist and was the cause for the last seven linked murders. It was too risky to divulge this knowledge upon Molly, however, and when they were caught, he was unable to tell her.

Molly was tied to a chair on one side of the barn house with a woman standing behind her, her fingers wrapped in Molly's hair. Sherlock sat on the other with restraints on his ankles and wrists. He fingered a small knife while watching two men guard the large doors.

"Sherlock Holmes, say goodbye to your precious girlfriend," the woman in black said as she pressed a gun against Molly's temple. Tears ran down her face as she looked at Sherlock. The woman tugged on Molly's hair and she winced. "Any final words, darling?"

"Sh-Sherlock, please, help," she stuttered out, her fear over flowing in her words and spilling over to Sherlock. "You promised."

Sherlock sighed and stood up despite the restraints. "Alright, fine, I'll tell you where the golden trove is. Molly, I'm sorry. I couldn't let you know about it, you'd ruin everything. No offense. It's buried about three hundred meters that way," Sherlock told the thugs who stood around them. He nudged his head towards the door and rolled his eyes. "Lestrade is going to kill me for telling them the location. We only buried it this morning and now we're digging it up. Goodbye, hard work," he told them, sarcasm slipping into his words to cover his fear and worry towards Molly.

The woman nodded for two men, the ones that guarded the door, to look for it. Sherlock looked at the crying Molly who had desperation in her eyes. She did not want to die and Sherlock was not going to let her. He finished cutting the rope that held his hands together and frowned at his girlfriend while being forced to sit back down by another thug.

"Vatican cameos," Sherlock sighed out to Molly before throwing the clip point knife at the woman who held Molly down. As he threw it, she moved her gun to point at him and fired. The knife wedged itself into her neck as the bullet left the gun and zoomed towards Sherlock. She had aimed too high, however, and shot the thug behind him in the chest. Sherlock rushed to Molly and untied her. He stood in front of her and wrapped her arms around his waist to keep her safe while manoeuvring his way out of the small, dank barn house. "It's alright, Molly. I told you it would be alright."

"You told me nothing would go wrong," she whispered, her cheek pressed against his shoulder.

"I lied." The two men had heard the commotion and rushed back inside to help the commotion. Sherlock took a gun from the pocket of one of them and pressed it against the back of the others head. "I'd suggest the two of you leave right now unless you want to get shot as well. Oh, and Scotland Yard is just down the road waiting for you. Jail or death?" he asked.

"Neither," one of them replied, pulling a paring knife from his pocket. He reached to Sherlock and sliced his chest in a julienne cut, spreading from one side of his rib cage to the other.

Sherlock squeezed the trigger as he fell down, killing the man in the line of fire, his head exploding and spreading its filth all over Sherlock and Molly. The remaining man looked around in fear and ran through the door and into his car. Despite Sherlock's threat of Scotland Yard, he tore down the road trying to get away from the crime that had taken place.

The pathologist sank down behind the detective and stripped off his jacket. She pressed it against the wound and pulled Sherlock into her arms. "Don't move. I'll text Lestrade and get him here."

"He's already on the way. I texted him just before we were tied up."

Molly rested her chin on his shoulder and frowned. "You told me it was all going to be alright." She pressed her lips against his neck. "You're such an idiot. Did you plan this?"

"Oh, Molly. I'd never plan anything that would hurt you." He moved his head to look into her eyes. "I can see your pain, Molly, and that's not something I enjoy seeing." He leaned his lips towards hers and kissed her lightly. "I'm so sorry, Molly. I'm going into shock, it seems." Molly pressed the jacket harder against his torso.

His breathing was shallow and rapid breaths. His hands were clammy and he was sweating a was becoming paler and paler with every second that ticked on. Oh god. "Sherlock, please, I need you, you can't do this to me. I need help. I-I-" Molly began to sob into his shoulder.

"Shh, Molly, it's ok. It's alright." He pressed his lips against hers in an attempt to calm her down and to bring her back to what was going on.

"Anderson, you owe me ten pounds," a deep voice said from the doorway and Molly jumped. Standing there was Donovan, Lestrade, Anderson and John.

"God, what happened?" John asked as he rushed over to Sherlock, seeing the blood staining the jacket.

"One of them cut him. I didn't get a chance to look at it, I just had to stop the bleeding. I couldn't let him die. Not on my watch." Molly lips turned up as though the situation was a little humorous.

"You did a good job, Molly. He hasn't lost nearly as much as he could of. We need to get him to a hospital immediately. The cut is deep and I can't operate on him here and now," John told them all, his eyes and fingers on Sherlock's wound.

~oOo~

In the chairs right outside of Sherlock's room, Mary and John waited for friends to be allowed in. Molly, Lestrade and Anderson sat in the main waiting room. They were going to go in after Mary and John had had a turn. Until then, they sat in silence. No-one talked about the kiss they witnessed. Everyone assumed Sherlock was just being nice and trying to calm Molly and maybe to confuse her. It's the type of thing he would do.

John and Mary walked out after four hours of arriving. They told the other three that Sherlock was ok and recovering. He was only awake for a little while but he had fallen asleep. Both Anderson and Lestrade said they wanted to see him, even if he was asleep. They were the next two to enter.

Molly sat alone for over half an hour. She had been at the hospital for nearly five hours and she was tired. Anderson and Lestrade walked past her and gave her a sympathetic smile before leaving the hospital as well. She stood up and walked into the hospital room to see Sherlock asleep. He had bandages around his torso and he lay limp in the bed.

She sank down in the chair beside his bed and held onto his hand. "Oh, Sherlock." She ran her thumb over the back of his hand.

~oOo~

The Watson's walked in, accompanied by Lestrade, Anderson and Donovan, silence enveloped them all. They entered the room to see Sherlock and Molly laying in bed together. Sherlock lay on his back while Molly squeezed in, lying on her side. Sherlock had an arm around her and was rubbing her back.

"Erm, Sherlock?" John asked.

Sherlock paused and his head lolled over to look at the visitors. "Morning. Didn't expect to see you lot so early. Did that man speak?"

"What's going on?" John asked, ignoring the previous question.

"This? Oh, she stayed last night. Apparently, she was here for five hours before she managed to see me so I said she could stay until I fell asleep. I don't know, I was a little too drugged up to remember what happened exactly. John, can you change my bandages?" he replied before nudging Molly awake.

~oOo~

Everyone sat outside while Molly got her stuff together and said goodbye to Sherlock.

"I can't believe you didn't wake me up before they walked in. I'd have said I fell asleep when I sat here with you because you were asleep. Can't you use some common sense? Jesus."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at his girlfriend and crossed his arms. "I'm sorry, Molly. It's not my fault that I enjoy having you in my arms," he told her and watched as she paced in front of his bed.

"Oh God. I have to walk past them. What are they going to think? How am I ever going to look them in the eyes again? What have you done, Sherlock? I should never have agreed to going with you on that case."

"Hang on a second. They're not going to question what we were doing. I already said that I-"

"Uh, no! Sherlock, no! No! _You_ saved _your _skin! _You _cleared up what _you _think. Apparently, _I_ snuck into _your _bed! Do you not see how tacky and bad that makes me look? _THINK, SHERLOCK!" _Molly yelled before she sank onto the ground.

"Don't, Molly. Don't tell me what I did wrong. _I _am pretty sure I know what I did!" he yelled back.

"Fucking _HELL_! WILLIAM SHERLOCK HOLMES! YOU ARE SOCIALLY INEPT! DON'T YOU _DARE_ SAY I DON'T KNOW HOW THIS WORKS! THIS IS ONE OF THE ONLY FACTORS WHERE _I _AM SMARTER THAN _YOU_! NO, WILLIAM, NO!"

Molly began to sob while Sherlock sighed. His breath was long and loud as he rubbed his temple. "This is ridiculous. Molly, please, come to my bedside, I can't get down without you yelling at me."

With caution, Molly stood up and took a few steps towards him. He would have come over to her but he was unable to move much. He scooted into a sitting position and smiled a bit at Molly. She could see the sadness in his eyes that they were fighting again. He motioned for her to come closer and she did so, knowing the fight was going to be over. She leaned down and pressed her lips against his. A timid knock on the door went unnoticed and the couple continued to kiss.

A short man entered and began to speak to his silent friends. "Sherlock, Molly? We heard screaming and then silence. I just wanted to see if everything- oh!" He stopped and looked at the rather compromising position they were in.

Molly was hovering over Sherlock, her hands on either side of his face and his hands on her waist. Their lips were connected and they did not look like they had any intention on stopping where they were.

"Erm, surprise?" Molly said in her meek voice once she and Sherlock realised he was there, a few seconds after John walked in.

~oOo~

"Hey, Sherlock?" John asked one day as he walked into the large kitchen where the detective was doing another of his experiments. "Remember that time where I walked in on you and Molly snogging in the hospital? Remember how I stopped you two having make-up sex under 19 hours after surgery?"

"Shut up, John," Molly said as she walked into the kitchen and stood beside Sherlock. "It's not like we didn't walk in on you and Mary doing almost exactly the same thing."

John flushed bright red and excused himself.

* * *

**A/N: hey guys!**

**Big thank you for everyone who reviewed on the last chapter! I understand that Mycrolly is weird, I am not a shipper at all. Nonetheless, I'm glad you liked it. It was very weird to write, even if I thought he was a cutie-pie.**

**Anyway, apologies for combining the prompts, I thought they were fairly similar and thought "they won't mind, psht!" so if you **_**did **_**mind, please tell me and I'll get **_**write**_** onto that ;)**

**Righty-o. I don't know if I had anything serious to tell you kittens... erm... how is my British lingo going? If anyone ever finds something that there's a better british slang word for or something, please let me know because I'm very into canon-ness.**

**Please take part in my poll. I don't know how they work or where you can find it but I'm sure you guys could figure it out, you're all very smart!**

**If it goes well, I might use the poll to ask what one-shots I'll work on next and will be the next to be uploaded.**

**I love you guys!**

**x**


	13. The Vanilla Twilight

_Dedicated to Kisa (95% sure is a guest. correct me if I'm wrong)_

* * *

For what felt like the billionth time since his death, Sherlock was out of the country, leaving Molly home alone. Every time, she was unable to sleep and the longer he was away, the harder it was to close her eyes and drift away. He had been away for almost three weeks by this stage.

On a usual day, Molly took the wine she and Sherlock would share (Atmosphere) and have a few glasses. She'd feel safe and sound, as though Sherlock was with her. Not even Atmosphere could help her recreate the feeling of his arms around her, though.

Yesterday and today were not usual days. Yesterday, she arrived home to find a postcard from Sherlock on her bedside table and her bottle of Atmosphere finished and today she forgot to get more wine. Sometimes, she thought it was so sweet that Sherlock would leave something like that, a little knowledge that he had been there and he was thinking about her. At the same time, she'd have loved him to come at night so she could wrap her arms around him and pretend her life could be like that forever. It was better to find him gone in the morning than to not see him at all.

Without her Atmosphere, Molly couldn't drift off. Her eyes were glued open. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't fall asleep. Instead, she stared at the small crack of sky that shone in through the gap in her curtains. The sky faded while she watched and too soon, it was light blue. Some nights, Molly and Sherlock lay together watching the sky. Of course, it was always different. They'd share some kissed, Sherlock would whisper to her a story (or deduction, as he called it) about people he saw on the streets, their fingers were locked together and everything felt so right, so perfect.

Tonight was not the same at all. It takes two to whisper a ridiculous story about how Lestrade saw his ex-wife at a strip club. Molly felt cold and alone. She missed having her fingers resting in between Sherlock's. Her back was cold and her waist felt exposed. It had been two days since she had slept; two days since she had her glasses of Atmosphere. She knew she'd have to find something else to ease the cold pain she was feeling.

"That's it," she grumbled as she stood up. "I have to have something to drink because I'll be damned if I don't sleep."

She stumbled to the kitchen and opened the fridge. The only thing left was her champagne, the champagne she planned on sharing with Sherlock for his safe return (if he even returned at all). Mary, John's girlfriend, had suggested Molly bought the Vanilla Twilight. It was a more bubbly drink than Molly was used to but she said she'd give it a shot. It was the early hours of the morning and Molly was pouring herself a glass of champagne. She wouldn't be surprised if she was an alcoholic.

Molly's actions were clumsy. She has no idea how but when she popped the cork, the content of the bottle went all over her, drenching her completely. "Are you kidding?" she groaned and placed everything on the bench. A scratch at the door stopped her from bathing straight away. Toby wanted to come inside and who was Molly to avoid comfort and someone with her? She opened the door and found her cat watching her a few feet away. "Toby, come here. Toby, come inside." The cat watched her attempts at coaxing him in. Gosh, cats are arseholes. The woman drenched in Vanilla Twilight champagne stepped outside and picked the cat up.

**_SLAM!_**

She spun around to see her door closed. Oh no. This was not good. Molly dropped her cat as she realised what had happened. Her automatically locking door had just closed with Molly on one side and the keys on the other. Tonight was not her night and she blamed Sherlock Holmes. She walked downstairs and sat on the porch at the bottom. She was going to punch Sherlock the next time she saw him. Molly fished her phone out of her pocket and sent texts to John, Mary and Sherlock's new number.

_If anyone's awake, I accidentally locked myself out of my flat. Could someone bring over the keys or pick me up, please? –Molly._

Molly looked at the sun that was dragging itself above the horizon and at the time was just beginning to lick the sky with its rays. Someone should be there soon. Well, she hoped so, anyway. Molly thought about how furious she'd be when Sherlock turned up. She'd give him a piece of her mind for finishing her Atmosphere without her.

Almost three hours had passed and neither John nor Mary showed up with their spare keys to help her. The sky was becoming lighter and the dark, beautiful sky had been replaced with the pale blue ocean for birds. A few chirps every now and again was the only sound Molly could here.

"Oh darling, I'm glad you're here," a deep voice whispered into her ear. She gasped and spun around to come face to face with Sherlock. "Good morning, Molly Hooper," he whispered before leaning in and pressing his lips against hers.

"Sherlock, why are you here?" Molly asked, holding onto him, praying this wasn't a dream.

"You were locked out of your apartment at an absurd hour. I had to come by to help you with your sleep deprivation. And I brought some Atmosphere. The only thing I don't understand is why you taste and smell like Vanilla Twilight…" Sherlock trailed off and raised an eyebrow at Molly.

"You drank the rest of the bloody Atmosphere and that's the only drink that reminds me of you and helps me to sleep."

Sherlock gave Molly a sympathetic smile before scooping her into his arms. "Well, I've finished my case and think we both need to sleep." He pecked her lips before carrying her into her flat.

Molly hated it when Sherlock left during those two years but the best times were always when he came back and showered her with kisses. The best times were always when they lay in bed together, his lips by her ear and his arms wrapped around her. The best times were when Sherlock was with Molly and she was so glad that he was there.

* * *

**A/N: hey guys!**

**Quick thingo, this is based off _Vanilla Twilight_ by Owl City. I had never heard the song before so I listened to it a few times and then bought the song because I like it.**

**_ANYWAY,_** **don't let me get off topic, I think I based the story on… I don't know. It's up for interpretation. I had to finish with Sherlock coming back for two reasons: 1. I didn't have enough words. 2. Someone had to help Molly when she's drenched in Vanilla Twilight! Did you think it reflected the song? I don't know. I'm having second thoughts. Look, I've only listened to it (consciously) ten or less times, to be honest. I just copied the lyrics from online and went by bit by bit.**

**If you have a better story line suggestion for this, tell me and I'll write it for you.**

**So, again, how was my British lingo? I've done my best to stay as right as possible. Alright, that Poll I was talking about: I figured out how to put it on my profile (guys, I only joined the last day of 2013) so that was exciting. Please do vote on it, I'd totally appreciate it.**

**x**


	14. The Parental Malfunction

_Dedicated to vlad980._

* * *

"Sherlock, if we don't go through with it... I'll start calling you Captain William," Molly threatened, crossing her arms as she did so.

"You wouldn't dare." Sherlock narrowed his eyes at his girlfriend who nodded.

"Aye, cap'n."

Sherlock pursed his lips and his eyes narrowed further. "You are not meeting my parents and I am not meeting yours."

"I have less people, Captain William. I just have my mother. Please? Why are you being such an arse about this? You just have to meet one person and smile and nod while I meet two. You know two thirds of the people we're going to see anyway.

It was about three months after John had walked in on Sherlock and Molly and once again, they were fighting. Sherlock Holmes, the undeniable dick, was living up to his name, refusing to introduce Molly to his parents and refusing to have anything to do with Molly's.

"You are insufferable!" Sherlock yelled and stormed out of the lounge room, slamming the bedroom door in the process.

"No! Get out of my room, NOW!"

For Molly's neighbour, they always hated it when Molly and Sherlock had a row. There was always endless yelling for hours before Sherlock stormed out of the flat. He'd return a few days later with a new form of apology.

Molly threw her bedroom door open to find her boyfriend climbing out the window. "If you leave now, don't bother coming back." He looked over his shoulder before jumping down. Molly couldn't even find it in her to yell out an insult as he left. He left. Sherlock left Molly. She was still trying to comprehend that he jumped out her bedroom window to escape this conversation.

~oOo~

A few days since the incident and Molly was having tea with a guest. The doorbell rang and Molly excused herself. When she opened the door, she was greeted by John Watson.

"Hey, Molly. I'm so sorry, I told Sherlock to come himself but he refused and told me to take you to 221B. Apparently, he needs your assistance…" he trailed off and shrugged.

"Molly, dear, who is it?" a voice called from within the house. Molly turned her head to call back.

"It's one of my friends, mum. Just give me a few moments." She faced John again and shrugged in reply. "Tell Captain William he can come over right now and meet my mum. We'll forget about that night until a more appropriate time. But also let him know that if he doesn't come within the hour, he's not welcome back again."

The door slammed on John's face and Molly returned to tea with a smile on her face.

"Was that your boyfriend?" her mother asked with a sly smile.

"Actually, that was my boyfriend's best friend and he was just popping by to invite me out to lunch. It seems that Sherlock plans on arriving soon, so hopefully you'll meet him today."

~oOo~

Sherlock pondered Molly's words. He couldn't believe she was still referring to him as Captain William. John gave him a confused face when he told him what Molly said. As for forgetting the other night, she was offering a second chance and he would be stupid to not take it. But her peace offering ended with a threat: come within the hour or don't come back at all.

He sighed and wondered what he should do. He couldn't be bothered to meet this lady. He didn't want to meet new people. But sometimes, people have to make sacrifices for people they love and care about. On the other hand, he was always making exceptions for Molly. He even left his favourite coat in her wardrobe. She wasn't seeing this from his point of view.

With that in mind, he made his decision. There was only one thing to do and he wasn't sure what would happen next.

~oOo~

It was getting too close to the end of the hour and Molly felt her heart drop. With minutes to go, Molly frowned at her mother. "I'm afraid I've got to get ready for work and you need to get to the airport."

Her mother nodded and sighed. "I've had a wonderful time with you, dear. We really must see each other more often! And it's a shame your Sherlock was unable to be here."

"Indeed. He must have gotten carried away with another one of his experiments. Not very surprising, to be honest, he's always losing track of time." Molly laughed and kept her brave face on. She didn't feel like crying right now, not in front of her mother.

"I suppose I best be off. Keep safe, darling!" her mother gave her a hug and kissed her cheek.

"Enjoy your flight, mum."

She looked over at the clock and felt her heart breaking. If Sherlock didn't show in the next twenty five seconds, she'd have a hard time next time she went in for work.

Molly's mum opened the door and gasped, stepping back in the process. "Heavens, you scared me!"

"My apologies, Mrs Hooper, I was just about to knock. I'm Sherlock Holmes, your daughter's boyfriend. It's very nice to meet you."

Molly felt her jaw drop and she stepped towards the door to see Sherlock smiling at her. He winked and went back to converse with Mrs Hooper.

~oOo~

The pathologist paced around her flat, smoke billowing from her ears.

"I don't understand why you're so angry," Sherlock said while eating some popcorn.

"Are you serious? You stood outside, planning on walking in at literally the last second. Why am I angry? Because you toyed with my emotions and you hurt me. I was at the point where I was going to burst into tears because you were being a prat. IT'S NOT FUNNY, WILLIAM!"

Sherlock controlled himself straight away at her final words. She _never _called him by his real name unless she was furious.

"I'm sorry, Molly. For everything. Kiss and make up?" he asked.

Molly scoffed and held up a hand. "You are not getting yourself out of trouble that easily. You tried to sneak out of my house when we were in a fight, you stood outside trying to scare me and you just made a joke out of it. No, we're not just going to kiss and make up for this, Sherlock. That is wrong and not fair."

~oOo~

Molly walked into the room with a small smile on her face. "I'm so sorry I'm late." She sat down next to Sherlock and kissed his cheek before looking over at his parents.

"Traffic?" Sherlock asked, snaking an arm around her waist. Molly looked at him as she put her handbag on the floor.

"Actually, no. I just stood outside for about an hour while you talked to your parents. I just wanted you to know what it feels like to be waiting and waiting for someone you care about to meet the people or person who raised you." She turned to Mr and Mrs Holmes and her smile widened a fraction. "He was given the ultimatum of meeting my mother briefly or breaking up with me. He had an hour to get to my flat and he stood outside for most of that time, waiting to come in at the last second."

Molly couldn't help but feel happy when his parents gave him a piece of their minds. Sherlock sighed and took it, knowing they were equal now and that Molly couldn't call him Captain William anymore.

* * *

**A/N: hey guys!**

**Wow.**

**Alright, I hope you enjoyed it. Captain William sure didn't.**

**Now, I don't quite know if this was what you (Vlad980) wanted so please tell me if it's not. Alternatively, if anyone thinks it would have gone smoother or more ridiculous or Sherlock was more of a dick, please let me know, more than happy to re-write.**

**I think I've got three more prompts left to write and the next one will be grandparent!lock. I'm new to all this '!' and I don't know if I'm using it right. Please let me know.**

**Righty-o. I think that's all.**

**Oh! So far, no-one has voted on my poll [insert sad face here] so I'll take it down when I next publish. Also, I'll be running a weekly poll (after I've finished these prompts. I'll make up some prompts so you can choose what you'd rather read. I'll try and post the three or so options in the order that you voted.**

**[insert winky face here]**

**K, bye!**

**x**


	15. The Grandchild Mishap

_Dedicated to MegHolmes._

* * *

According to Sherlock's calculations, he and Molly had been married for forty nine years, seven months, three weeks, two days and 5 hours. This, among cases he was once involved in, was one of the many facts he rattled off whenever his grandchildren came to visit. Little Hamish and Josephine came to visit after school for a few hours while Greg Holmes and his wife Susan were working.

Molly was in the kitchen baking a cake with the help of Hamish when Sherlock decided to strike. His beautiful wife had always forbid him from turning their children and grandchildren into little robots. She often joked with Mycroft that she had put the devil in Sherlock. Today, however, Sherlock knew he had to strike because these kids were insufferable enough already. To add to this, they couldn't even deduce. Besides, Josie was getting bullied by the kids at school. Well, that's what he told himself to justify his actions anyway.

He was sitting in his old armchair that sat beside Molly's and faced the television. Little Josie was playing with her dolls on the ground, asking stupid questions such as "where did you get that dress?" and "what did you do yesterday?" Sherlock knew there was something wrong with this. She should just know.

"Josie, I have some things to teach you. You can't tell your grandma or parents, though. Ok?" he whispered down to her.

Josie looked up at her grandpa with suspicious, narrowed eyes. "What is it?"

"I have to teach you about mind palaces and deducing. Let's start with mind palaces."

~oOo~

Molly walked into the lounge room about half an hour later with little Hamish on her hip. Both Josie and Sherlock were sitting in a chair with their fingertips steepled under their noses, their fingers grazing their lips. Molly put Hamish down and crossed her arms while standing in front of Sherlock.

"Locked it away somewhere?" he asked and the little girl nodded before responding with a meek yes. "Great. Keep working on that, dear. When you want to remember something, just get an object to represent it and lock it away. A great example would be choosing a cake to lock away how angry grandma is going to be when we open our eyes." Mrs Holmes had one eyebrow arched as she looked down on her husband who opened his eyes and blinked at the light. "What a beautiful sight for my eyes to first lay on," he said with a smile before attempting to take her hands with his own.

"No, Sherlock. You promised me. You promised when we got married-"

"Forty nine years, seven months, three weeks, two days and 5 hours ago, darling."

"-that you would _not _turn the children and grandchildren into little robots. You promised me."

Sherlock stood up and brought Molly into a hug. "Her doll asked the other what she did yesterday. I had to intervene, darling, before it was too late," he rationalised in a whisper into his wife's ear.

"That's no excuse, Sherlock. Look at her. She's only beginning to understand basic things and you're trying to hijack her mind."

"Sometimes I wonder if you'd be this against it if you married Mycroft," Sherlock huffed, getting a small hit to his arm. "What was that for?"

"For suggesting I could have married him. I can hardly put up with you!"

"And yet, my darling, beautiful wife, you've done it for forty nine years, seven months, three weeks, two days, 5 hours and forty nine seconds. How do you do it?" he teased.

"Sometimes, I don't even know. You'll turn our Josie into a little Cyber Man like yourself." Molly pulled away from the hug and looked over at the girl who had long abandoned her dolls to investigate and explore her mind palace.

"No I won't. Dalek, maybe, by Cyber Man? Never."

Sherlock learnt fast to never compare his grandkids to _Doctor Who_ villains without reaping the consequences from his wife.

~oOo~

"Erm, mum, is Josie alright? She's a little out of it. She's been sitting with her eyes closed for what feels like hours and when we talk to her, she gets angry and opens her eyes impatiently. Did something happen?" Greg asked when he called that weekend.

"Don't worry. I think I know what happened. I'll talk to your father about it and tell him the implications of- don't worry about it, dear. She should be ok the next time she comes over." When she hung up, she sent a death glare at Sherlock who was eating a piece of cake. "Look what you've done. Now Susan and Greg think we've broken their children!"

Sherlock shrugged before shoving the rest of the slice into his mouth. "Be grateful I didn't break Greg."

Sherlock was fast at learning the implications of not caring about his granddaughters solitude and threatening his child's mental wellbeing. He also learnt not to mess with the mental capacity of children by trying to enforce a mind palace and maybe forensic facts. Sherlock wasn't sure what he'd request she put in her mind palace. Forensics was very important, however. It was always good to learn things now for the future.

Molly was much more careful about leaving Sherlock alone with the grandkids. She didn't want him drilling in forensics, biology or chemistry facts. Of course, Sherlock slipped some extra homework for them about said subjects.

When Greg and Susan found out that Josie was exceeding the required knowledge and that she should skip a year, they were thrilled. Molly, however, heard the news and refused to be kissed by Sherlock for a few days.

"Look, Molly, in the end, I actually helped her intelligence. I'm pretty sure that introducing her to a mind palace and teaching her to deduce was a good thing. Besides, now she's making double the friends she had before."

"You taught her to deduce?!"

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys!**

**This is the real "The Grandchild Mishap". I know I posted one before but that was the wrong story (obviously) and can be found in a previous chapter.**

**My apologies if I totally got the grandparent type characters wrong. I am neither a grandparent nor around awesome grandparents. They live a few hundred kilometres away from me and they haven't all retired. On top of that, my grandparents have been divorced and such. It's a rather confusing family tree. None of my grandparents have had children with the person they're married to at the moment. ****I hope I did ok.**

**Please tell me if I didn't or if you have suggestions.**

**My apologies to the requestor for my terrible writing for this. I haven't written grandparents before and I didn't really know what to do. I couldn't really base the characters off my own grandparents.**

**GAH! Rambles, sorry.**

**Poll is on my profile. Above the picture and stuff is a button saying "vote now" in blue. IDK, just press Ctrl + F and type in "poll". Won't take it down for a few more days because of this mishap. I was going to take it down today but I uploaded this wrong.**

**K, bye.**

**x**


	16. The Strawberry Situation

_Dedicated to Sunneshine123._

* * *

The smell of strawberries sent butterflies to the tummy of Sherlock Holmes. Whenever he smelt that divine smell, he always felt a little bit better, no matter what. He knew exactly what had caused it as well.

Molly Hooper.

Her bloody shampoo smells like strawberries and whenever he hugged her, the smell always lingered around his nose. There was only one occasion that Molly's shampoo made him feel sick. John and Sherlock sat together in a cab on their way to Scotland Yard.

"God, I can smell strawberries," John groaned, scrunching his nose up.

"What's your point?" Sherlock asked, hoping he wasn't turning red.

John rolled his eyes and gave Sherlock a look of disbelief. "I'm allergic to strawberries, you prat."

During the 20 minute cab drive, John had vomited because of the smell of strawberries and Sherlock had to pay the cabbie double what he already owed. The duo walked to Lestrade's office and sank into the chairs.

"Can I smell strawberries?" Lestrade asked.

John looked at Sherlock and frowned. "I think you smell like strawberries."

"I may have used the wrong shampoo this morning. Can we please get on with this?" he snapped back.

"Erm, no, I don't buy strawberry smelling shampoo… how did you use the wrong shampoo?" John asked.

"John! Please! Give it a rest! Gavin, if you could please carry on."

"It's Greg. And I want to know how you made this terrible mistake as well. What on earth were you up to, this morning?"

Sherlock gave him a pointed look and Lestrade caved in.

~oOo~

**[Post Reichenbach, pre Empty Hearse]**

The detective and his pathologist paced around a bookstore together in another country together, a country that Mycroft had banned Sherlock from mentioning in the future due to complications. Sherlock was trying to do something nice for his girlfriend on the trip and the duo wound up in a bookstore. Molly was trying to find her favourite book in this foreign language and Sherlock was not complaining at all. He enjoyed watching her pick up a few book, scrunch her eyes at the title and tilt her head to the left.

"Why is it your favourite book?" he asked her as she put another one back.

"I just really related to the protagonist when I was younger. Our dads both died with similar events and it helped to have someone going through what I was going through," she responded.

Molly never spoke about her dad. On the off chance that she did, her eyes always watered up and she'd excuse herself from the conversation. Sherlock rubbed the small of her back and guided her away from the section they were at.

"I know exactly where the book is," he told her, knowing she'd want to leave soon.

~oOo~

The duo were in a large park in the undisclosed country. Sherlock had set up a picnic for them, hoping Molly would enjoy it. Whenever Sherlock took Molly out of England since his staged death, he always made sure that he treated her to something nice as a thank you.

After they had eaten, Molly began to feel rather tired and lay her head in Sherlock's lap. He picked up the book and began to read to her in English.

"It all began and ended on a stormy night nearly twelve years ago when I was only a teenager," he began.

~oOo~

It was a stormy night the night before the strawberry related cab vomit. Molly was curled on the couch with a glass of wine and Toby. She was watching the latest episode of _Glee _when it began. It started with loud thunder claps and soon, the sky was being illuminated by the lightning. Molly took a few more hasty sips of wine and brought Toby closer to her.

After a few more minutes of loud noise and bright skies, Molly's electricity cut off. With a small shriek, she dropped the wine glass and pulled Toby to her chest before navigating her way to her bedroom.

She grabbed her phone from the bedside table and snuck under the duvet. She typed in the well-known phone number into her phone and pressed it to her ear.

"Hello… yes, I'm afraid now isn't a good time, I'm in the middle of something. Can I call you back later?" Sherlock asked on the other end. Molly couldn't help but feel hurt at the impersonal-ness of Sherlock's tone and words. He was with John, though, and he hadn't talked to John about them yet.

"Erm, yes. Actually, Sherlock, don't worry. It's fine. We can talk later. I just missed you."

"Alright. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

He hung up and Molly dropped the phone over the side of her bed, just before a large clap of thunder. She whimpered and snuggled further into her bed. Toby managed to free himself from her death grip and jumped out of the bed.

Molly could feel herself hyperventilating. She couldn't breathe and every breath was short and shallow. It had been a stormy night so many years ago. She had a fear of storms as it was and that night solidified the phobia. It was a stormy night when her dad died of a heart attack in the room opposite hers. Little Molly had crept out of her room in fear and into her parents room to find her dad lying on the bed, not breathing.

~oOo~

Sherlock paid the cabbie and ran up the stairs to Molly's flat. He opened the door with his key and looked around. Power was out. Molly had left in a rush and the windows were still open. Sherlock tugged his coat and jacket off, leaving them to dry on the hooks beside the door. He closed the windows while toeing his shoes off in the living room. He picked up the shards of glass from the broken wine glass and disposed of them quickly.

He opened Molly's door when a loud thunderclap sounded, masking the sound of the door opening and closing. He unbuttoned his shirt and left it on the ground before crawling under the duvet to see his whimpering girlfriend. He wrapped his arms around her and she cuddled into his chest. He could feel her sobs and he pulled her tighter to his chest. She wrapped her arms around his torso and pulled herself as close to him as possible.

Sherlock stroked her head and planted kisses in her hair as she sobbed. The storm eventually subsided as Molly drifted off to sleep. Sherlock couldn't leave her, not like this and not now.

~oOo~

After breakfast with Molly, Sherlock had a shower before rushing home as to not alert suspicion with John. He crept back into bed and frowned as he realised he could smell strawberries. His jaw dropped as he realised what he had done. He had used Molly's shampoo. He was going to be annoyed if John commented on it.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys!**

**How was that? Originally, I was going to do some drabbles but I managed to tie together some ideas. I hope the time jumps made sense…**

**Anyway, that was favourite book/Molly's shampoo/picnic. I just added in storms because it was storming yesterday and I was thinking about this prompt.**

**Righty-o. Now, I think I'm almost at the end of my prompts (I think I have one left) so I'll start a new poll of three prompts and post the two most desired prompt. Does that make sense? I'll post two a week (unless I have more time/motivation or I have prompts sent in). So yes, feel free to continue to send in prompts, I'll write them right away.**

**K. I hope you munchkins enjoyed this chapter. I had some feels while writing it (my username is very accurate).**

**x**


	17. The Boyfriend Miscalculation

"Believe me, ladies; the 14 Tricks really work! You only use it every day for a month. I've only had to use it once and I'm getting married next month," the lady on the TV said.

Molly began to ponder this. The 14 Tricks was a program that would get you a boyfriend or a date if you followed the instructions every day. Molly decided that maybe she'd try it, just to see what Sherlock would do… she didn't have anything to lose in the end, did she? He'd still turn up to the morgue every few days and she could always return to being her usual, mousy self. That was her justification for buying the book when she saw it at the book store the next day, anyway.

Molly began the book. The trick was to start off strong with someone and ease up as time went on. It suggested using one for two days and moving on unless you wanted to pair some together. It was a 30 day program and Molly was sure she'd win over Sherlock by the end.

~oOo~

_1. Talk about your ex. If you're going to be in a relationship (which you will) he should know why you two broke up or at least about your ex._

_2. Talk about yourself. He wants to know about you so tell him! The more he knows, the better. When you two get in a relationship, there's less he'll have to find out about you._

Molly prepared herself for when Sherlock walked in the next day. She wasn't overly sure how she'd tie these two tricks in together but she was sure that she could.

"Morning, Molly," Sherlock called as he stalked through the morgue and up to the lab. She noted that he was alone, a good start for her plan.

"It hasn't been a very good morning. I'm still finding Tom's clothes around the flat. He's always been very messy and goodness knows it's irritated me. I mean, he was a really messy person and I'm very specific about where things go, you know? Clothes are always in the dirty basket or in the wardrobe and here I am finding a shirt under the couch! That's lazy and messy. I really hate when someone is lazy and messy. I-"

"Yes, Molly. As much as I crave to know about your recent failed relationship and your OCD tendencies, I'd much prefer if you'd keep your mouth shut and let me work," he snapped back.

Molly nodded and retreated to the morgue to finish up when John came bursting through the doors. "He upstairs?" Molly nodded and watched as the doctor rushed to the lab.

~oOo~

_3. Don't smile. Men love serious women. Sure, you can have a good time too, but let your resting face be either blank or a little negative. It also shows that he needs to put more effort in and try and attract you more._

_4. Discuss your body-image issues. Men have a tendency to be more attracted to women with lower self-esteem. They enjoy when you have a reliance on them, especially to feel good._

Sherlock walked into the morgue to see Molly glaring at the paperwork on her desk.

"Molly, I was wondering if you could watch the experiment upstairs? It'll only be another hour or two."

"No. I'm afraid I'm far too busy with my paperwork to assist you, Sherlock. Ask John or better yet, watch it yourself."

"Please, Molly? I'll pay you in biscuits. Mrs Hudson made some biscuits yesterday."

"Are you saying I'm fat? Are you telling me I should eat biscuits because it's not going to make a difference to my weight? I'm on a diet, Sherlock. I'm already fat and here you are trying to make me eat more biscuits and sit down to watch an experiment. Wow, Sherlock, you really know how to make the women swoon!" she exclaimed and stalked to the bathroom.

"Molly, what the _hell_ are you going on about?" he called out. She ignored him and walked faster to the women's bathroom, knowing it wasn't important enough for him to follow her.

He just raised his eyebrows and walked up to the lab, knowing she'd probably be in the bathroom for a while.

~oOo~

_5. Complain. If you're waiting for coffee with him and the barista is taking a little too long, tell him how it annoys you that you can't even get your coffee quickly. Complain about how your makeup just wouldn't co-operate that morning or that everything you tried on made you look fat. He should know that you have an opinion and don't mind talking about it. Men love opinionated women._

_6. Be as stunning as possible. Dress up, put your good makeup on when you're going to see him or may bump into him. He should know that you are a beautiful, gorgeous woman and if he isn't' interested, there are many who are._

Sherlock and John entered the morgue the next day to see Molly dressed up. Under her lab coat, she was wearing a short, tight black dress with red heels. She wore matching red lipstick, extravagant makeup and she did her hair in a rather complicated way.

"Wow, Molly," John said, bug eyed as he looked her up and down. "Erm, what's the occasion?" he asked.

"Yes, Molly. Do tell us. I don't believe its Mardi Gras yet. Please enlighten us on your look," Sherlock said with his usual bored look as he swept his gaze across the morgue. "While you think, we'll be upstairs."

~oOo~

_7. You don't need to be immaculately clean. Men enjoy not being overpowered by the smell of perfume. Studies have shown that if you have a slight smell of BO on you, men are more likely to be attracted to you._

_8. Act bored. If he tells you he's really into gardening, raise your eyebrows as if what he said is really boring. He wants to entertain you and if you act bored, he'll try harder. Men get a kick out of trying hard to impress a girl. The sentence "oh shit dude no way!" can be adopted to tell a straight white man that you're not paying attention. Made popular by a post on Tumblr._

When Sherlock entered the morgue the next day, Molly prepared herself to act bored. His nostrils flared as he looked around.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise you've become homeless, Molly," he said as he backed away to the door.

"Excuse me?"

"You haven't bathed since yesterday morning."

Molly rolled her eyes and continued her autopsy. "I don't see the problem, Sherlock."

"I just prefer being in the company of people, especially women, who bathe on a regular daily basis."

"Well, Sherlock, you'll find that's probably due to the fact you've been hypnotised by the patriarchy into believing that's what you should desire."

Sherlock scoffed and shuffled his way to the lab. "I'm doing an experiment on mould and how fast it occurs in different types of bread."

"Oh shit dude no way," Molly responded as she hacked the dead man's torso.

"God, Molly, you're really making me question your sanity these past few days." Sherlock gave her an odd look before escaping to the lab.

~oOo~

_9. Act immaturely. Make penis jokes on occasion, snicker when he says "do do". Bring out your inner 12 year old and joke at inappropriate times. He'll appreciate that you're trying to fit in with his immaturity, even if it's hidden._

_10. As well as that, make the occasional racist joke. Again, he'll appreciate that you're trying to find where he stands on those topics and will subtly let you know._

Molly prepared her racist jokes (something she felt extremely uncomfortable about) and googled immature jokes made by 12 year olds. She was ready for when Sherlock and John walked in that morning.

"Molly, good to smell that you've bathed."

"People _do _do that, Sherlock," John commented, awkwardness sneaking into his tone as he gave Molly an odd look when she snickered.

"Jesus, don't tell me today is your immaturity stage." Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned to walk to the lab.

"Wait, Sherlock, I got a joke for you." Molly felt butterflies in her tummy as she thought about what she was going to do. In no way did she feel comfortable with this but it's what the book said would work. "A black man and-"

"No, Molly. No. That crosses the line. You've acted like a child and now you're trying to make racist jokes. Don't talk to me today, please."

He and John stalked to the lab and Molly was left alone in the morgue.

~oOo~

_11. Share your views on religion. Tell him how you think Christians are trying to dominate the world. He'll enjoy hearing your views on important topics._

_12. Lack intelligence. If a man realises he'll be the important, powerful and intelligent one in the relationship, he'll swoon at your feet. Let him think he has the upper hand in the relationship and that you'll have to rely on him._

"But seriously, Sherlock, the Pope is a Satanist. He _says_ he's Catholic, but he's obviously covering up he's a Satanist. And he wants to take over the world, Sherlock. Forget Moriarty, you need to take down the Pope."

Sherlock leaned back in his chair and looked away from his experiment. "Really, Molly? Yes, I see, you're right. I'm going to get Mycroft to hire a hitman to get the Pope." Sherlock gave her the "Oh-Anderson" face while shaking his head.

"It's true! I read it online!"

"Oh, well if you read it online, it has to be true, doesn't it?" Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked back at his experiment.

"It's true, though. My mum's priest accidently divulged the plans of world domination. The Pope is a Satanist and he's going to get everyone to be a Satanist or he'll kill them," Molly defended herself.

"Molly, I'm not really in the mood for your outlandish theories and ideas that make no sense and do not contribute to my day at all. Now, please, let me get back to my experiment."

Molly frowned as she realised this wasn't working at all. "Can I help with your experiment?"

"No."

"What are you experimenting?"

Sherlock sighed and rubbed his temple. "I'm experimenting the relationship between the solubility and ph level of specific acids and alkalines. It's rather trivial things but bored."

"What does that mean?" she asked, pretending she wasn't intelligent.

"Molly, please stop acting like you're not smart. As someone once told me, brains are the new sexy."

~oOo~

_13. Pretend to be distracted. Look around the room. Comment on what you see like someone's tattoos, the cleanliness of the room, a spot on the carpet, something that shows he needs to step up his game._

_14. Repeat some questions. If you ask what their favourite movie is and half an hour repeat the same question, he'll realise that you want to know more about his interests and you're trying to remember as much as you can._

"Morning Molly," Sherlock said as he walked into the morgue. The pathologist kept her eyes down and squinted at the body in front of her. "Very well then. John and I will be upstairs."

Molly sighed as he left. This wasn't working. She couldn't do this. She wasn't going to be able to do this. He clearly wasn't interested.

~oOo~

There was silence in the lab when Sherlock entered the next day.

"Molly," he said with a nod before walking to a microscope. John sent a smile in her direction, even though her head was down.

The awkward silence flooded the room and John cleared his throat. "I'm going to get some coffee." He walked out as fast as possible, leaving Sherlock and Molly in the room alone.

"Erm, Sherlock. I'm really sorry about the last few days." He raised his eyebrows, not looking in her direction. "This is ridiculous." She walked over to him and dropped the book on the table. "I'm just trying to get you interested in me but clearly, you're not. Sorry for harassing you in the last few days," she said before shrugging off her coat to reveal her usual clothes underneath. "I'm going home, my shift is almost over. Just tell the next person I'm in the bathroom."

Molly rushed from the lab and out to the London streets. She was an idiot. People say anything to get their books sold. What is wrong with her?

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys,**

**I might continue this in another part that I plan on basing on the song _Say Something _by A Great Big World.**

**Anywho, I think this is fine on its own if I don't get around to fixing it up.**

**_I have started the poll for prompts next week. Please vote for 2 you'd like to read!_**

**OH! **

**DISCLAIMER: do not attempt ANY of these! I searched for ways to repel men ("I'm a writer," I muttered as I googled "how to get a boyfriend in 30 days" and "how to repel men" and searching through sites that contain dating advice) and came up with a top list of 14. The words I used were not the words they had, they were trying to get people NOT to use the list, unlike this one.**

**Righty-o.**

**x**


	18. The Silent Situation

**Previously on **_The Sherlock One-Shots:_

_There was silence in the lab when Sherlock entered the next day._

_"Molly," he said with a nod before walking to a microscope. John sent a smile in her direction, even though her head was down._

_The awkward silence flooded the room and John cleared his throat. "I'm going to get some coffee." He walked out as fast as possible, leaving Sherlock and Molly in the room alone._

_"Erm, Sherlock. I'm really sorry about the last few days." He raised his eyebrows, not looking in her direction. "This is ridiculous." She walked over to him and dropped the book on the table. "I'm just trying to get you interested in me but clearly, you're not. Sorry for harassing you in the last few days," she said before shrugging off her coat to reveal her usual clothes underneath. "I'm going home, my shift is almost over. Just tell the next person I'm in the bathroom."_

_Molly rushed from the lab and out to the London streets. She was an idiot. People say anything to get their books sold. What is wrong with her?_

* * *

**_Made some changes with suggestion of Rosie McGuilicuty_**

* * *

John walked out of the lab as fast as possible, leaving the detective and the pathologist alone.

"Erm, Sherlock, I'm really sorry about the past few days," Molly said, breaking the awkward silence. Sherlock just raised his eyebrows, still looking into the microscope. She felt her heart drop. "Right. Well, my shift is almost over. Can you just let the other person know that I'm in the loo?" Molly slipped off her coat and hung it up. "See you later, Sherlock." Molly grabbed her bag and the book sitting on her desk. With another glance at it, she dropped it in the bin as she walked out of the lab.

She rushed down to the streets of London and sighed. She was such an idiot! People would say anything to get their books sold. What on earth is wrong with her?

~oOo~

Sherlock jumped out and grabbed the object Molly had thrown out. He heard John coming up the stairs and slipped it into his pocket. He decided he'd have a look at it once he got back to 221B.

"Where's Molly?" John asked as he entered and took a seat across from the detective.

"In the loo," he replied, his eyes still glued on the specimen under the microscope.

~oOo~

When Sherlock arrived back in 221B and in his room, he frowned as he felt something dig into his chest. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the book. Ah, of course, the object Molly tried to dispose of.

_The Boyfriend Tips- 20 fool proof tips to get that lucky man to love you back._

_1. __Talk about your ex._

"Oh, Molly. You naive woman." Sherlock pawed through the pages and cringed as he realised what she had done and what she tried to achieve.

He laughed as he put the book on a table, next to one that was rather identical.

_The Girlfriend Tips- 10 fool proof sentences that will have her swooning._

~oOo~

_"How was your day?" When you ask her how her day went, her interpretation is that you are thoughtful and eager to know about her 9-to-5 routine. Be warned though: This question gives her license to talk at length about all the little dramas that occurred throughout her day. So be ready to set aside some time to listen to her stories._

Sherlock entered the morgue the next afternoon, just to say the first sentence.

"How was your day?"

Molly dropped her scalpel and walked to the loo. She didn't feel like talking to him today, not after what happened yesterday.

~oOo~

_"I can't believe how sexy you look!" Straight up, this tells her that you find her attractive, and to a lesser extent, that you want some. But, if you're in a relationship, she'll hear more than that - namely, that you're still lustfully appreciating her fine ass. No woman could fail to be flattered by that compliment._

After a busy morning of completing a case, Sherlock decided to visit the morgue.

"I can't believe how sexy you look," he told Molly as soon as he entered.

Fuming, she walked over to him, slapped him and rushed to the loo. She didn't want to talk to him, especially after a derogatory and inappropriate comment like that. Molly Hooper is not a piece of meat.

~oOo~

_"How do you feel about [anything]?" Asking this question tells your lady that you're genuinely concerned about her feelings. And, as both Oprah and Dr. Phil have proven beyond a shadow of a doubt, women love to express their feelings on every topic imaginable. Know, however, that you're setting yourself up for a lengthy and deep conversation about whatever the topic may be. So don't ask this if you're planning to watch a game that night._

Sherlock was in the middle of a case when he realised he had to say the next sentence. John had rushed off to get coffee and Molly was alone in the lab with him.

"How do you feel about gold diggers?" Sherlock asked.

Taking that as yet another personal stab, Molly dropped her pen and walked down to the morgue to complete an autopsy; she didn't want to be near Sherlock right now.

~oOo~

_"You're prettier than your girlfriends." Putting her on a pedestal among her peers gives her an ego boost that she can secretly lord over her gal pals. It's high praise in the world of women, and will score you some big flattery points._

When Sherlock was leaving, John by his side, Sherlock decided to add in one more sentence to keep her moral up.

"You're prettier than your girlfriends, Molly. Even with your mouth size and small breasts," he smiled at her and walked away with John, not realising what psychological damage he had just performed.

~oOo~

_"You're really smart." By acknowledging her intelligence, you're communicating that you recognize her brains, as well as her figure. This makes a woman feel appreciated for all her assets, not just the parts that fit in a thong or a bra. It's a mark of respect from her man._

Sherlock watched Molly work, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. "You're really smart for a girl."

She dropped her pen as her eyebrows furrowed and she stalked out of the room. Sherlock heard the squeaking of white board marker and went to the morgue to see _Gone for lunch –Molly._

~oOo~

_"You're great in bed." Simply put, this line makes her feel like a goddess. Hearing it suggests that her sexuality has been elevated in your eyes and makes her feel like she really knows how to satisfy her man. It could also help to knock away any inhibitions she might have in the bedroom._

Sherlock was bored. He walked into the morgue with the intension of fulfilling his challenge of one sentence a day.

"Good morning, Molly. I just wanted to let you know the rumour flying around London is that you're great in bed. I was-"

Molly stalked out of the morgue and into the lab. A little click caused Sherlock to sigh. She had locked the door behind her.

~oOo~

_"I want to spend my life with you." This is a heavy line; it's not many degrees away from proposing to her. So be prepared for the consequences if you utter it. But also keep in mind that risk often carries reward - once you tell her this she'll be doing mental backflips of joy. Other phrases that work in a similar vein but are less committal are, "Only you can make me so happy," and, "I wouldn't want to be with anyone else."_

Sherlock stalked into the morgue the next day and stood in front of Molly.

"Doctor Hooper, I want to spend my life with you."

This time, the first time throughout the last six days, Sherlock could see the tears welling in her eyes. After a smack to his cheek, Molly stalked out of the morgue. A few minutes later, another person walked in and finished up Molly's job.

~oOo~

_"You're my best friend." You're telling her how you feel above and beyond a sexual context. It means you've placed value upon your friendship and want to do things with her that other men may not have had an interest in. She'll feel overpoweringly connected to you after you say this._

Sherlock shuffled into the morgue the next day, feeling a little emotionally drained. "Molly, I have something to tell you. You're my best friend," he told her. For the first time, she didn't leave. She finished her work without a word and began on another project. "Molly? Please, say something."

~oOo~

_"You'll make a great mother." Most women look forward to having babies one day. Most also agonize over whether they will do a good job of it. By saying this you affirm to her that she'll be a success. Furthermore, you satisfy her internal need to be pacified on the subject. Coming from her man, these words will make her the happiest she can be._

John handed Sherlock a coffee and went to pass Molly the other. With a smack, the mug hit the ground and exploded across the ground, coffee splattering everywhere.

"Jesus! Molly, I'm so sorry!" John exclaimed, looking around for something to clean it up with.

"Don't worry about it, John. I'll look after it. Just move away from it. I'll be back in a minute." She hurried away to get some cleaning supplies. Her work space had to be clean. Her lab had to be immaculate. "You're not hurt, are you John?" Molly asked as she wiped the ground with a mop. John shook his head and looked down at the clean floor with apology written all over his face. "Honestly, John, don't worry about it."

"You'll make a great mother." Sherlock said as Molly threw the last of the mug away.

Molly pulled a weak smile on as she looked at John. "I'll make you a coffee."

~oOo~

_"You make my life complete." This tells her that she's the only one for you. All women want to hear this line from their men. It says that you've accepted her completely and that she has become an essential, indispensable ingredient in your life. That's an unbelievably gratifying thought to your woman - she'll be smiling for days._

Sherlock sighed as he finished the latest case and texted Lestrade the details. "John, get some coffee, I'm exhausted." John rolled his eyes as he got out of his seat and hurried away to fuel the demon. "Molly, you make my life complete."

Molly dropped all the paperwork she had in her hands onto the ground and crossed her arms at Sherlock. "Stop it."

"What?" Sherlock asked, raising his hands.

"All this ridiculous 'you're my best friend', 'you make my life complete', 'you'll be a great mother', 'you look sexy today'. Just don't, Sherlock. Please. You don't understand that you hurt me so much when you say that. You just take a knife and stab me in my insecurities, laughing it off as if it's nothing. Please, Sherlock, stop it. Stop this. Just leave me alone."

Sherlock couldn't only see the tears welling in her eyes, he could see them streaming down her cheeks.

"Molly, I-"

"I don't want to hear it, Sherlock. Please, leave me be."

He got up and walked towards her. She took a step back and pointed to the door. He stood in the doorway and sighed.

"For the record, Molly, there's a book called 'The Girlfriend Tips- 10 fool proof sentences that will have her swooning'. I'd suggest you have a look at that before you decide to give up on me."


	19. The Spam Solution

**The Shy Sherlock**

_Dedicated to echoesinthenight. Sorry it's very short._

* * *

It was always awkward for John to enter the morgue. Molly Hooper always found a way to flirt with Sherlock and most of their conversations ended with "you owe me, Sherlock Holmes." He remembers the first time he walked in with Sherlock to find him blushing as Molly bustled around the morgue and teased Sherlock.

"Hey, Molly," Sherlock said as he entered the room.

Molly looked up at him and smiled. "Good morning, Mr Holmes. Oh, I see you've found yourself a friend. We should throw a party." Molly laughed before walking towards John and holding out her hand to him. "Doctor Molly Hooper, Pathologist here at Bart's."

"Doctor John Watson, retired soldier and flat share of Sherlock."

"It's nice to meet you, Doctor Watson. I hope you make Sherlock very happy." Molly winked at the two men standing there causing Sherlock to blush.

"Uh, we're not a couple. I'm just his friend," John defended (for the second time, he'd always remember).

"Of course not. That's not at all why little William here is bright red, is it?" Molly asked before patting Sherlock's cheeks. "Hm, for a second there I thought I almost cut myself. Anyway…" Molly returned to the post mortem she was conduction. Her scalpel pierced the torso of the man and she began to hack away at him. "What brings the mysterious Sherlock Holmes and friend to Bart's today?"

"I-I was wondering if we could, erm, use the lab?" Sherlock stuttered out.

"Oh Sherlock. I still haven't cashed in the favours and you keep walking back. You should be running scared. If you're not lucky, I'll use them all on you at once. Then where will you be?"

"Probably following your boyfriend to find out who he's cheating on you with now," he muttered.

Molly smirked at the body and examined her work. "Well, Sherlock, you're correct again as per usual. But they aren't the type of cases you take. You'll probably be running around London at 4am trying to accommodate to my every demand. Nonetheless, you owe me, Sherlock Holmes," Molly told him with a wink and threw the keys to the lab over at Sherlock who caught them without effort.

"Thanks, Molly. I really appreciate it." Molly waved it off and looked back down at the body.

Ever since that day, John prepared himself for the awkwardness that would ensue.

* * *

**The Disappointment**

_Dedicated to Spitefire303. My apologies- I don't think I interperated your prompt as you had hoped. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy. Sorry it's rather short._

* * *

There was only one thing in the entire world that Sherlock Holmes was afraid of.

_Shhherlock._ The voice would taunt him whenever he got something wrong. _Shhhherlock, think about it, won't you?_ The little voice told him things he did not ever want to hear. _Shhhherlock, people will die, Sherlock. Think about how disappointed they will be, Molly, John, Lestrade, Mrs Hudson. Shhherlock, think about it, please._

~oOo~

It was a thin line between pass and fail. Seconds, milliseconds, microseconds. It all came down to the clock.

"Wait!" Sherlock yelled as he realised the answer, moments too late.

"I'm afraid, darling Sherlock, you've just missed the mark," the criminal's voice called out to him.

Lestrade stood behind Sherlock in the warehouse and sighed. The detective had failed and people were going to die. His phone began to ring and he knew who it was straight away. "Donovan, what's the damage? Oh God. Yeah, I'll tell them now." He hung up and buried his phone in his pocket. "It was a school. Hundreds of kids were in there at the time."

Sherlock looked around at John and Lestrade. Disappointment, sadness and fear were etched on their faces. This was his entire fault.

~oOo~

"Are you disappointed in me?" Sherlock asked as he and John rode in the cab back to 221B.

"To be honest, Sherlock, yes. A bit."

Sherlock nodded and looked back out the window. The little taunting voice told him how Molly was going to have a terrible day tomorrow with kids being wheeled in and parents crying all day. Lestrade would go back to Scotland Yard and tell the others that Sherlock had screwed up. John was going to go home to his pregnant wife and think about how devastated he would be if their baby was at the school at the time.

Everyone was upset and Sherlock had just himself to blame. If he had thought 5% faster than he was, he would have stopped that criminal. Sherlock hated guilt. It hung about him for ages and tore him up inside. It became a thing he feared. The disappointment from his brother whenever he'd fail to deduce something in its entirety became feared and learnt. Disappointment from John filled him with guilt and the disappointed look from Molly would be heart shattering.

~oOo~

There was a meek tapping on Molly' front door late that night. She opened the door to see her favourite detective staring at the ground.

"May I please come in?" he muttered.

"Of course, Sherlock. What's wrong?" Molly motioned him to enter and closed the door behind him.

He took his coat off and hung it up before looking at Molly with red eyes. "I did something really bad today," he confessed before beginning to cry.

"Come sit down and tell me what happened." She guided him towards the couch.

Sherlock sat beside her and let her rub his back. "I didn't think fast enough and a school was bombed." Molly's jaw dropped as she looked at Sherlock.

"Wait, a criminal _killed_ innocent children?" she asked.

Sherlock nodded and sighed. "I feel so guilty. The look of disappointment on John's face… and Lestrade's…. oh Molly, what am I going to do?"

"It wasn't your fault, ok? You don't have to feel guilty and those men are _not _allowed to blame you! Did you personally bomb that school? No. A criminal did. That criminal can feel guilty but it is not your fault. You didn't know what was on the line and you couldn't have possibly have known kids would die if your brain didn't think faster than it usually does. Sherlock, this is not your fault."

Sherlock nodded and stood up. "Thank you, Molly. I probably should go home."

Molly rolled her eyes and stood up with Sherlock. "You're not sleeping alone tonight. I can't let you," she said before taking his hand and guiding him to the bedroom.

~oOo~

Sherlock woke up with Molly's arms around his torso. She wasn't disappointed in him and that made everything feel a little better. The guilt wasn't heart breaking. He realised it wasn't his fault. He feared disappointment from those he loved but Molly was never disappointed with him. She was the one who made him feel better on a dreary day and he was the one who comforted her during storms. Sometimes, all Sherlock needs is a hug from Molly and her reassuring smile to realise it's ok and everything was going to be alright in the end.

* * *

**BONUS:**_ The Sherlock One Shots**: The Silent Solution.**_

* * *

**Then: *_Carry On My Wayward Son _plays***

Sherlock sighed as he finished the latest case and texted Lestrade the details. "John, get some coffee, I'm exhausted." John rolled his eyes as he got out of his seat and hurried away to fuel the demon. "Molly, you make my life complete."

Molly dropped all the paperwork she had in her hands onto the ground and crossed her arms at Sherlock. "Stop it."

"What?" Sherlock asked, raising his hands.

"All this ridiculous 'you're my best friend', 'you make my life complete', 'you'll be a great mother', 'you look sexy today'. Just don't, Sherlock. Please. You don't understand that you hurt me so much when you say that. You just take a knife and stab me in my insecurities, laughing it off as if it's nothing. Please, Sherlock, stop it. Stop this. Just leave me alone."

Sherlock couldn't only see the tears welling in her eyes, he could see them streaming down her cheeks.

"Molly, I-"

"I don't want to hear it, Sherlock. Please, leave me be."

He got up and walked towards her. She took a step back and pointed to the door. He stood in the doorway and sighed.

"For the record, Molly, there's a book called 'The Girlfriend Tips- 10 fool proof sentences that will have her swooning'. I'd suggest you have a look at that before you decide to give up on me."

* * *

**Now:**

Molly sat on her couch that night, chewing her lip as she thought about what Sherlock had hinted and what the books said.

I think we need to talk. You should probably come over. –M.

She waited for a response or for Sherlock to arrive in silence. Toby wasn't clattering around and the only noise was the clock hanging on the wall. Molly began to feel a little anxious about what was going to happen.

~oOo~

There was a loud knock on Molly's door and she jumped in her seat before rushing over to answer it. The detective stood in her doorway and his face lit up when he saw her.

"Good evening, Molly, it's splendid to see you again." Molly felt her face heat up as Sherlock smiled down at her. "What do we need to talk about?"

"A-about the books," Molly responded, feeling her face heat up even more.

"What about them?" he asked, his voice getting softer and almost closer to Molly.

"You know perfectly well. I just want to know if that's really what you felt or not."

Sherlock placed a hand on Molly's cheek and stifled a laugh. "Of course, Molly. There's something about you that both attracts me and scares me."

~oOo~

Molly jumped as her phone beeped in her hand.

_Whatever do you mean? –SH._

_We should talk about the books. You told me to take a look at that book. –M._

_Oh, yes, that. Why do we need to talk about it? –SH._

_Is that what you feel? –M._

_I don't think I'm quite following. I thought we were experimenting our newfound flirting techniques on each other…? –SH._

There was a few moments of silence in which Molly didn't reply.

_Of course, I just wasn't sure if that's what you realised was going on. –M._

_We're always on the same page, Molly. Let's be honest here. Now, I have to go. John ordered Chinese. –SH._

Molly stared down at the phone and sighed. Of course. Of course Sherlock was experimenting on her. When wasn't he?

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys!**

**Just wanna let you know that I'm thinking of making a YouTube so I can keep you (irregularly) up to date on the stories. Also, you may or may not learn a little more about me. I don't know if that actually interests any of you... oh well! It'll also be linked to my Tumblr.**

**Anyway, my apologies for this spam of short stories. They're not even 1K words each :( I hope you enjoyed them anyway.**

**Don't forget there is a poll at the moment about what I'll post over next week. Choices are 'Toby', 'Coffee?' and 'If Molly said no.' (which is about TRF). May or may not contain traces of Moriarty. You get to vote on 2 and it's not a blind poll.**

**Write a review or PM me for any ideas for poll prompts. Please specify if it's a poll prompt or just a prompt. **

**Bye!**

**x**


	20. The Date Night Infuriation

_Dedicated to: ME! I figured this out myself! Huzzuh!_

* * *

When Sherlock first suggested Molly and John went on a date, both were adamant that it would not happen- ever! John (of course) knew how Molly felt about Sherlock and besides, the two of them never really having comfortable conversations. Sure, they're friends, but only because Sherlock managed to rope her into their group of friends.

"Sherlock, this is ridiculous. She doesn't fancy me and I'm dating Sarah. I think we both know exactly what she'll think if someone tells her they saw me out with another woman," John defended himself as Sherlock tried to hand him a tie.

"Who cares about Sarah? Molly's a very nice person and she's more than happy to go on a date with you."

John rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "What on earth are you getting out of this and what did you do to poor Molly Hooper to get her to agree to this?"

"First of all, there is a criminal there and I need four eyes on him at all times. As you have pointed out on numerous occasions, people would start to assume if we went out together. Now, you don't look like an idiot when you go out to dinner alone and you get a free dinner. As to how I roped in Molly, that's quite simple, John. I used the usual tricks. Put on the tie."

John's jaw dropped at Sherlock's final few words. "Er, the usual tricks? As in flirting with her until she agreed? That's just harsh, Sherlock. She'll start to assume things and that won't lead anywhere good, will it?"

The tie flew forward and landed on John's face. "Oh, _real _mature, Sherlock. Why couldn't you go with Molly and I went with Sarah? We could have made it a "double date" thing and then no-one gets angry at anyone."

"How accepting do you think Sarah would be if in the middle of dinner, we excused ourselves before taking out a pair of goons? At least Molly would understand and know that she'd have more work tomorrow." Sherlock shrugged and turned around, attempting to leave. There was a hand on his shoulder stopping him, however.

"If you did anything to her other than flirting to get your way, I will kill you." John threatened.

"Oh John. Death threats? Really? Wow, you're so original. It's not like I haven't had those before." Sherlock rolled his eyes before walking out of John's room and retreating to his own. He grabbed his phone from his pockets and made an urgent phone call.

"Hello?"

"Good evening, Doctor Hooper. I think I have something that might interest you. It's about John."

"Look, Sherlock, no offense, but John doesn't particularly spark my interest."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and continued in a chirpy tone. "Well, I'm afraid I won't be able to make it tonight, I'm rather busy catching criminals, but John will be stepping in for me."

"…What?"

"It's a shame. I was rather looking forward to seeing you dressed in something other than your usual work clothes. No matter, I may have to go undercover into the restaurant. I bet you'll look stunning." Sherlock's voice dropped a little as he spoke and he bit his lip once he was done. Had he tipped the scales enough into his favour? He knew he had to compliment her, make an innuendo and express remorse to get her to his side.

There was silence over the phone, silence Sherlock knew Molly was using to get her words right and to avoid stumbling over her words.

"Y-you were- are- will?" Ah, of course. She did stumble over her words. Sherlock overestimated her. A shame, really.

"Indeed. So, is that ok? It's a free meal and John is currently dating Sarah so, it's not like he'll be expecting anything anyway. Well, I should let you finish getting ready. See you tonight." He hung up before she could reply and sighed. It really was a battle field trying to navigate his way around Molly.

~oOo~

John sat down at the table and waited for Molly to arrive. John had an earpiece in and was being instructed by Sherlock to look at the criminal in question. He had to be located before Molly arrived. Just as John realised who he was looking for, someone blocked his view. He looked up to see why they hadn't moved yet and his jaw dropped when he realised who he was looking at.

"Molly, good evening," he said looking her up and down. She wore a light blue empire-line dress. It came just below her knees and, to be frank, John thought she looked stunning.

The woman sat down and smiled while her eyes drifted around the room and her palms began to sweat. "Good evening, John. Sorry that you had to be roped into this."

John decided to go along with whatever Molly said; after all, Sherlock would make up ridiculous lies to get her here tonight if he wanted.

"Well, he's Sherlock. Not like I can expect to be friends with him and not get pulled away for ridiculous things. How has work been going?" he asked.

Molly nodded a little and bit her lip. "Erm, yes, good. I haven't really had a lot to do lately which is always good when you work in a hospital."

John nodded and the two sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes.

"What did Sherlock do to get you here today?" John asked and Molly blushed.

"Er, the usual things he does to me. Oh God! I mean, his usual psychological games that play on my emotions," she rushed, her face turning even redder at her original words.

"That's what he told me when I asked but I was just wondering anyway. I mean, it's not like you'd volunteer to go on a date with me. You know, Sherlock was so persistent about this dinner that I had to cancel plans with Sarah." John rolled his eyes and gave Molly and apologetic smile. "Oh well. What can you do, other than murder Sherlock?"

"I don't think one can simply murder Sherlock Holmes. He'd figure it all out hours or seconds before hand and have a trick up his sleeve ready to go. You'd probably have to have a gun to the head of everyone he cares about and… I don't know… would he even let you kill him to save them?"

John shrugged and leaned back in his seat. "This isn't a very good restaurant. We haven't even seen the menu's yet," he grumbled before looking around and over at the criminal sitting a few tables away.

"To be honest, I'm not surprised Sherlock chose substandard," Molly grumbled in agreement.

"He acts as though he's so sophisticated and classy and then sends us to a restaurant that doesn't even give us menus."

John shifted his seat to see the criminal in question a little clearer.

_"Alright, John, I'm going to walk over to you and Molly as a waiter and get your drink order. I'll continue to that man's table and that's when the action will start. You'll have to get Molly out of the way and into safety before stepping in to help. I've called Lestrade. He'll be here in five minutes," _the voice of Sherlock Holmes said through John's earpiece.

"'Can I start you off viz sum drinks?" a man with a French accent asked as he stood by their table.

"S-Sherlock?" Molly asked, trying to keep her voice down. Both John and Sherlock were surprised that Molly had figured out the waiter was Sherlock but neither said anything to her in an attempt to not rouse suspicion.

"No, madam, I am Ricard, your vaiter. Could I get you a drink, madam?" Sherlock asked as he stared down Molly.

"No thank you. I'm not feeling too well. Please excuse me, John. Thank you for partially spending your night with me." Molly stood up and grabbed her purse before walking out of the restaurant.

"I'll just have water," John told Sherlock.

"Excellent choice, sir." Sherlock walked over to the table of the criminal. John watched as Sherlock spoke to the man and looked up at John. He nodded and looked down at the man. That was John's cue to start the plan.

~oOo~

Molly's makeup was ruined when she got home. Her eyeliner and mascara had run and was all over her face. God she looked terrible. How could Sherlock have done that? He could have had dinner with her and taken down that criminal. She knew that he used her but he never thought that he'd stoop so low as to disguise himself in the restaurant. And to approach them as well. It made Molly feel sick and even worse knowing she'd see him tomorrow at work.

She got into bed and checked her phone. Not a single thing. She felt her heart drop. It was one thing for him to be that stupid, it was another to not even try and talk to her about it.

~oOo~

"We'll be upstairs," Sherlock said as he entered the morgue, walking straight up to the lab.

"Morning, Molly," John said as he trailed after the detective.

She couldn't believe that Sherlock didn't mention it at all. She was stumped for the rest of the day as to why he didn't say anything other than those three words to her the entire time he was there. She made a decision that if Sherlock invited her on a date again that she would have to turn it down, no questions asked. She didn't want to go through with that again.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys!**

**Righty-o. I'm gonna start writing up those fics in the poll. The only problem is this: Only two people have voted.**

**I don't think you guys see the problem: they voted for 'Toby' but one voted for 'if Molly said no' and the other for 'coffee?'**

**I planned on posting the most popular two- one on Monday arvo and the other Wednesday arvo. I might post the third on Friday arvo but I kind of need you kittens to vote or otherwise there's no point. I think that if I don't get any more voters, I might stop doing polls and write a story, not one shots. I'd still accept prompts but that's the only time I'd post and they would be subjected to inferiority against the main story.**

**Right.**

**So, I haven't had any other prompts (except I want to redo the Spitfire303 one) so either vote or send in some prompts. I'll love you forever.**

**Bye**

**x**


	21. If Molly Said No

"Molly, I need your help," Sherlock begged.

She contemplated this for a few moments. "I'm afraid, Sherlock, I can't do that. I can't help you with what you're asking. It's ridiculous and… honestly, Sherlock, did you really think that I could do that? I'm not that powerful, you know."

The detective sighed and paled. "I need you to help me. If you don't, Moriarty wins. This is the end game, Molly. Without your help, I'll be dead by the end of the day. If I don't die, it'll be our friends. We need this, Molly. We need to do this. For God's sake. If you don't do anything with your life, at least you saved London."

Molly felt her eyes well as she shook her head. "I really can't, Sherlock. I swear to you that I can't."

After taking a step back, Sherlock replied. "You're not in cahoots with Moriarty, are you?"

The woman's jaw dropped as she looked at Sherlock. "What? How could you accuse me of that? We're friends, Sherlock?"

"You can leave. You don't have to be involved. You can go home right now and cut off communication with him. Mycroft will watch over you and he can't get to you."

"No. Sherlock, no." She backed out of the lab shaking her head. "I'm sorry, but no. I can't help you. I just can't."

~oOo~

Sherlock stood on the roof and looked down. He was running out of options. The plan couldn't work without Molly's contribution and she had said no. This wasn't going to work. He was going to have to jump if he didn't want Mrs Hudson, Greg, and John dead.

The body of Jim Moriarty lay on the roof top, almost five meter away from where Sherlock stood. John Watson stood on the road watching Sherlock. Oh God. John was going to watch Sherlock die. Sherlock Holmes was going to die and his best friend was going to watch. Sherlock paled as he realised what was going to happen. He was going to fall and die. Nothing about this was okay. Sherlock did not want to die, not today, not here and not now.

Molly Hooper. The name came to mind and Sherlock sighed, hanging his head in the process. Of all the times for her to say no, why did it have to be today and about this? What had Moriarty said to her?

Sherlock shook his head, getting Molly out of it. No, he had to focus. They were watching him and he had to jump. He wasn't prepared.

_~oOo~_

_"Well, Sherlock, I recommend you talk to Miss Hooper. I believe she can help you with getting out of this alive. Once you have her word, I'll make the arrangements."_

_Sherlock shook his head at his brother. "She said no. She said that she didn't want to help me this time. This time, I had to do it myself and she wasn't getting involved."_

_Mycroft crossed his arms and sighed. "I don't know what you expect me to do, Sherlock? I have work to do and I can't just organise your entire life. What _do _you want me to do?"_

_The detective sighed and shrugged. "Get someone else on that shift, one of your people. Get Molly away, organise someone to catch me. I don't know, Mycroft, something. Mummy would be very upset if she found out you were the one to kill me."_

_Furious, Mycroft stood up, his face turning red. "Don't you dare bring that into this. You turn up out of the blue and demand I fix something that will save you in hours. I haven't had time to organise or hire people and now you try and guilt trip me. How dare you do this to me?"_

_"You're the reason I'm in this predicament, Mycroft. You are the one who talked to Moriarty about me. If that information ever got out, you'd be risking your job and your life. You know our mother would never let you get away with killing me." Mycroft went to open his mouth to rebut that idea but Sherlock beat him to it. "Even if your involvement was inadvertent."_

_Mycroft sat down and dropped his head into his hands. "If I could help you know, I would. We're too close to the event to organise something. All I can offer is a bungee cord and a few people to be around and someone to dress up as you. I'll even throw in Derren Brown. After that, it's in Molly Hooper's hands. She can either help you organise Moriarty's body to be disguised as your own or she can drop it all."_

_Sherlock crossed his arms as Mycroft told him the plan. "In what universe is that logical?" he asked before standing up and storming out of the office._

_~oOo~_

He stood without the bungee cord, without Derren Brown waiting and without the people planning to be around. Sherlock was going to die and John was going to see the whole thing.

"Stay right there. Don't move. Please."

John backed up and stood where Sherlock asked. He didn't know what was going on but he knew Sherlock was being serious and something could go on. Sherlock just didn't want John to see him die. He didn't want his best friend to see his body hit the ground. He didn't want John to watch as Sherlock killed himself. The detective didn't want the blogger to die and there was only one solution.

*Bing*

Sherlock hung up on John and looked at his phone.

_Lazarus is a go. –MH._

Sherlock looked down and inhaled deeply before jumping. Mycroft had come through and now neither Holmes was going to die.

The air flew through his hair and Sherlock closed his eyes. He was beginning to feel sick and he felt fearful. This was real. If this didn't work out correctly, Sherlock was dead. He held his breath and (almost) prayed as he got closer and closer to the ground. With a splat, he landed on the air mattress below and smiled. Oh that Mycroft. He was going to send him some cake for his efforts. The detective jumped up and looked around. Thank God he was alive!

"Sherlock!" John called out again from behind the ambulance station as Mycroft walked onto the scene. The air mattress attendants took it away while Mycroft approached Sherlock.

"Hello, dear brother. I believe this is your cue to pretend you're on the pavement."

"Thank you, Mycroft." The elder brother raised an eyebrow before pointing in the direction of John.

"Derren Brown is taking a look at him as we speak. I'd suggest you get on the pavement and let my employees take over from here."

Sherlock nodded and the brothers went their separate ways.

~oOo~

Molly walked around the morgue, getting ready to preform her next autopsy. A movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention and she spun around to see Sherlock sitting upright. A scream escaped her lips as she realised he was alive.

"S-sherlock? But you jumped from the roof!"

"It seems, Doctor Hooper, that certain people have certain brothers who have certain connects that allowed certain people to jump off a roof and survive. What it comes down to though, Molly, is that one person, one puzzle piece, failed to fit into their place and failed to comply with the expected duties. You were meant to help me, Molly. You were meant to be the person who finished it up nice and tidy in a little bow. I suggest that you figure out a way to create false paper work and produce a body for my funeral. Good day, Molly Hooper."

Sherlock stood up and sauntered out of the hospital, his head ducked as he sunk back into the crowd.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys!**

******Now introducing the _TL;DR _section which will sum up the entire authors note. Feel free to skip to the end of this authors note to see.**

**I'm sorry I posted this on Tuesday and not Monday as I promised. I was rather busy with a balderdash English essay that was rather ironically enough about a movie in Africa... that had no English in it.**

**Here's the current schedule:**

**Wednesday: **maybe the prompt from Mighty Sword (can be found in the reviews) of 'The Movies'. Possibly Toby.

**Thursday: **if I don't post 'The Movies' Wednesday, will post today. Same thing with 'Toby'.

**Friday: **Nothing planned at this stage. Perhaps 'The Injured Animal' (again, another beautiful prompts form Mighty Sword) to go with a bit of a Toby theme.

**Saturday: **won't be posting today. Will start a poll for today, Saturday and Monday.

**Sunday: **probably won't be posting today. If I do, it'll be a surprise prompt.

**Monday: **will start writing the top voted prompt and may be posted that arvo.

**Tuesday: **If I don't post it on Monday, it will be today.

* * *

**I've had a lot on my plate lately with school. Next week I have both my psychology essay and my english oral due so that will take up a lot of my time.**

**I know, I know, excuses excuses. I'm sorry.**

**Now introducing the _TL;DR _section which will sum up the entire authors note.**

_**TL;DR:**_

**You should read the schedule. I'm busy and will try and make time. Please leave prompt and/or review.**


	22. The Movie Night Conundrum

_Dedicated to: Mighty Sword_

* * *

To be frank, she was sick to death of Sherlock Holmes. She didn't want to see him or have anything to do with him if she could help it. Of course when she decided she wanted a day out alone, there was only place she could go where Sherlock wouldn't go.

"One ticket to _The Hobbit_, please," she said to the teenager as she fished some money from her pocket.

"Here's your ticket," he replied and handed her the slip of paper while taking her money.

Molly began to make her way towards the theatre when someone stopped her in her tracks.

"Two tickets to _The Hobbit_."

Oh no. Not here. Not now. Not tonight.

"Sherlock, is that Molly?"

Oh God. Someone stab her 37 times in the chest, please!

"Doctor Hooper. What a coincidence seeing you here. I thought you spent your nights in the morgue," a deep voice said from behind her.

Molly spun around to come face to face with the only consulting detective in the world- Sherlock Holmes. "W-well, actually, Sherlock, I'm not a psychopath. I don't get a kick out of being around dead bodies all day," she stuttered out.

"Are you here on a date?" John asked while Sherlock rolled his eyes. Before Molly even had a chance to squeak out a response, Sherlock jumped in.

"Clearly not, John. That shirt with those pants, please." Both men looked her up and down and Molly frowned.

"How dare you? My choice of clothes does not reflect my relationship status, nor my mood. I'm allowed to dress comfortably. In fact, I can be dating someone and go out dressed in my pyjamas as long as I feel comfortable in them and in public. Don't be an idiot, Sherlock," Molly spat out with vigour.

Sherlock supressed a laugh and turned to his blogger. "Let's head in then, John."

With a sympathetic smile at Molly, John followed Sherlock into the theatre leaving a flustered Molly standing alone. As of late, she had found she was able to make a point to Sherlock as long as it was 50 words or less. Nonetheless, it took energy from her and she began to feel exhausted.

Molly looked down at the ground and sighed. What was she going to do? She had the option of either walking into the theatre with the possibility of sitting next to Sherlock or John… or she could just leave. She looked at where Sherlock and John had exited and looked towards the main entrance. With a heavy heart, she walked towards the entrance.

"Molly, erm, Sherlock said you should come in as well. He thinks you're going to go home now and doesn't think you should miss the movie. Apparently, he's adamant that you should see the dragon." John said behind her before shrugging. Molly turned around and gave him a small, sad smile.

"It's ok, John. I'm going to go home. I have to feed Toby anyway," she replied and waved a short wave at him before walking out of the cinema.

~oOo~

John returned to sit next to Sherlock who had opened the bag of crisps. The theatre began to dim black and the commercials began to roll. The duo sat in silence as Sherlock watched the adverts flick through.

"She's gone home," John said, stirring Sherlock from his daze.

"Who?"

"Molly. Who else?" Sherlock shrugged and popped a crisp into his mouth. He crunched down, his eyes glued on John's. "What, so that's it? You're not even going to apologise to her?"

"For what? I pointed out the obvious; she was there alone. Not my problem she took offense." Sherlock faced the screen and leaned back in his chair. "Let's just watch the movie. I'm rather excited. Apparently, there are wonderful actors. Well, that's what Mycroft said, anyway."

John sighed and faced the screen, trying not to think about how he had let Molly Hooper walk away. He had let Molly leave.

"I have to go," John said, guilt and slight fear running through his veins.

"The movie hasn't started, John. You need to pay attention," Sherlock grumbled before the lights switched off and the film began.

John gave one final glance at Sherlock before sliding out of his seat. He rushed out to the main entrance. With eyes fixed on the automatic doors ahead of him, John strode further and further away from Sherlock. He stopped outside, the lights burning his retina.

~oOo~

There was a knock on Molly Hooper's front door about ten minutes after she arrived home. So far, all she had done was take her makeup off and she was half naked at the time.

"Just a minute," she called out before pulling her shirt back on.

She froze as she approached the door and though. Was it Sherlock coming to apologise? He didn't have to. She didn't expect it anyway. But was it Sherlock? She looked through the peephole and bit her lip; half hoping it was the detective.

At her front door stood someone she was not expecting at all… at least, not by himself. Her eyebrows furrowed as she opened the door, a flustered John staring at her.

"Molly, hey. Erm, I just got a little worried… it being night and all… I- I just hoped you got home safely and that Sherlock didn't, you know, bother you too much," he stumbled out. God, this was not his area. He didn't want to have to apologise for Sherlock or watch out for his errors.

"It's alright, John. Thanks for your concern. I see you bailed on the movie, then."

"Unfortunately. And then _I _had to miss out on the dragon and these small men with hairy feet. John, I think we found where you belong. Book a plane ticket to New Zealand," a deep voice said from the stairs. Both Molly and John looked over to see the detective taking his time walking up. "Also, apologise to Molly for interrupting her evening. She'd rather be watching _Glee _right now than talking to us. Come along, John."

The detective turned around at the top stair and walked back down.

"Arsehole," John muttered before turning back to Molly. "Sorry about that. Anyway, I'm glad you're back safely. I was worried something had happened or we'd see your body at our next case."

Molly smiled at him and nodded. "Thank you for your concern, John. I'll keep safe."

John nodded at her before saying goodbye and rushing after Sherlock. Poor John Watson had small legs and had to make at least two strides to keep up with Sherlock's large ones.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys!**

**Just wanted to let you know that i posted something on fictionpress and I was rather happy with it [insert happy face here] so you should check it out! I have the same pen name (because I'm unoriginal).**

**Tootle pip!**

**x**


	23. Toby

A little body slithered out of the window and pounded onto the ground. It stalked through the dank alley way and into the streets of London. Toby was on a mission, a mission of mass destruction. Today was the day that Toby took charge and did what needed to be done. He was going to get revenge for the heartbreak that human had caused to his own. No human got away with hurting Molly Hooper and Toby was going to prove it the old fashioned cat way.

The walk there was tedious. To start off with, he didn't know where 221B Baker Street was, or how to get onto the tube. Nonetheless, Toby was determined to set the record straight. The first thing he did was talk to the local cats and find out how far away he was from Baker Street. He was on good terms with as many cats as possible in case of the situation where he must find his way somewhere. Today was a great opportunity to initiate the devious plan he was going to achieve.

When he reached the beating heart of London, Toby began to look for assistance in getting to 221B Baker Street. He happened to run into one of his friends. She was a sleek black cat who had large green eyes. All in all, Pompom was beautiful.

"Meow," he said as he approached her.

"Me-ow," Pompom replied. She wasn't a very nice cat, in all honesty. Her beauty extended as far as her skin and, from there, she was a bitter cat. Toby was friends with as many cats as possible. His main motivation for this was in case of incidents where he needed others. Today, getting to 221B Baker Street, was one of those incidents.

"Meow."

"Meow."

The conversation continued like that for a while until Pompom admitted that she had a friend on Baker Street who could show him the way to 221B and how to get into the flat. Toby was very relieved and followed Pompom over to Baker Street to find her friend, Horace.

Pompom and Toby ran to Baker Street, his paws beginning to tire. Toby knew, however, that his journey was only half over. Once he managed to get in, if he could, he had to get into Sherlock's room and rub himself over everything. Sherlock had an allergy to cats and Toby used this to his advantage whenever he could. He didn't approve of Molly's relationship with Sherlock and he hated how he treated Molly. Toby was going to stop Sherlock from this tomfoolery and leave this as a threat. Toby had a plan for Sherlock and it didn't end once he escaped 221B.

"Meow," Pompom said, telling Toby they were at Baker Street. She began to call out to Horace who arrived straight away from the shadows.

Horace was a big, fat, fluffy cat. His face was scrunched up and looked as though he was angry all the time. The fluffy white cat gave Toby the once over and looked at Pompom, demanding some form of explination.

"Meo-w," she explained, causing Horace to nod.

Horace turned around and Pompom ran off in opposite direction. Toby followed Horace to 221B and oh how they climbed. Toby wasn't sure Horace could pull it off but he did. They looked around until they found an open window and Toby sneaked in. He was so glad to see it was Sherlock's. It smelt like him and was neat like Toby imagined. He jumped up on the bed and rubbed his face all over the pillows before rolling over the bed. He clawed his way up a coat that was hanging up and it fell on the ground.

In all the excitement, he didn't realise the door had opened and there was a figure standing in the doorway.

"What the bloody hell?" the stranger said before scooping Toby up in his large hands. Uh oh, it was Sherlock.

Sherlock put Toby in a cat carrier and walked out onto Baker Street. The man got into a cab and drove away. The little cat was terrified. Where was he going? What was Sherlock going to do with him?

~oOo~

Toby and Sherlock entered a large building and entered a white, sterile room. The cat smelt his human in here and he was put down on the ground. He meowed, trying to get Molly's attention.

"Is that a cat?" her voice called out from other side of the room. She came into Toby's view and he began to meow non-stop. "Sherlock, why do you have Toby?" she asked, looking at the man who had carried Toby here.

"He was in my room, rubbing himself over my possessions and ruining my favourite coat. Do you know why?" he accused, annoying Toby.

"N-no. What are you suggesting, Sherlock?" Molly asked, a small frown on her face and her eyebrows crinkled. The two points by her nose were pointed to her forehead, a sign of sadness, Toby thinks.

"Nothing at all. I'm sure he left your flat, walked about London, met some cats, climbed in through my window and decided to destroy the place.

Toby tried to explain that was what had happened by Sherlock took no notice.

"I'm sorry; I honestly don't know how he got in or why he's so far away from home." Molly picked up the cat cage and moved him to a more secluded and blocked off area while Sherlock continued to talk.

"Well, Molly, don't expect me to be looking after your cat again. One more time and he's going to the pound."

"Y-yes, Sherlock. I'm honestly, really sorry."

"I'm sure. This has happened too many times, Molly. I can't allow this to continue. John is allergic to cats, as you know, and if he comes into my room…" Sherlock trailed off and Toby cringed.

He was such an idiot. It was _John _with the allergy, not Sherlock! Sherlock was just upset that Toby had ruined his favourite coat. He hadn't helped the situation at all.

* * *

**A/N: hey guys!**

**Sorry this is late, I already explained. I don't know if I'll have time to run and post the poll this week.**

**I don't think I'll be able to post for about a week and a bit. Of course, I'll try to write some more and maybe do a bit of a spam but we'll see. Also, I've got school holidays in a few weeks.**

**TL;DR: going on short hiatus (much shorter than _Sherlock_) and won't post for a bit. School holidays soon!**


	24. The Injured Animal

_Dedicated to Mighty Sword. Thanks for the beautiful prompts._

* * *

It was a cold, icy day when Toby had died. It was a cold day that started at about 6:35 that morning. Molly Hooper was lying in bed, trying to regain some warmth. She had a night shift at the morgue and had only gotten home an hour ago. After watching some _Glee_ and eating some dinner, Molly rolled into bed and tried to get some sleep. The winter chill bit at her nose and she wrapped another blanket over her body.

Toby had meowed goodbye as he rushed out the door when she arrived home, to her disappointment. She knew she was going to be sleeping alone that night and had hoped that she would have company with her.

At 6:35, Molly heard the distinctive click of the front door being unlocked. There were footsteps around her flat before her bedroom door creaked open bit by bit.

"Good morning. I didn't expect to see you here," she stuttered out, the cold affecting her.

"Why isn't the heater on?" Sherlock asked while taking his shoes off.

"Broken. I'm getting someone in today to look at it for me," she responded before folding the blankets over on the side, inviting Sherlock to join her.

The man took no hesitation of closing the door and taking his coat and jacket off. He left the jacket by his shoes and crept over to Molly. He draped the coat over her and pulled the blankets back over her and over him.

"It's freezing," he grumbled, wrapping an arm over her waist.

"Mmm." There was silence between the duo as their body heat warmed the sheets and blankets up. Molly broke it after a few moments. "How long are you staying? It's already really early."

"A few hours, I think. I can't have you freezing to death here." He kissed her nose and smiled down at her, an apology in his eyes. "John's asleep but I think he's got work. When I go back, I'll see. If he's out, I'll come back." Molly closed her eyes and nodded while wrapping an arm around Sherlock. "I'm honestly sorry. I wish I didn't keep doing this to you."

"Then don't," Molly breathed out, her heart rating slowing down and her breathing rate reducing as she began to slip away into sleep.

"I'll figure something out, Molly. I promise." Sherlock kissed her head and began to think about what he was going to do to fix this situation.

~oOo~

At 9:00 on the dot, Sherlock slid out of Molly's arms and put on his shoes, jacket and coat before sneaking out of her flat. He stood in front of the gutter and waited for his cab to arrive.

After several minutes, it arrived to Sherlock's dismay. He had hoped the cab wouldn't come and that he could return to Molly's bed.

"Baker Street," he said as he climbed in, his heart dropping as he realised he wouldn't be seeing Molly again today.

The cabbie began to drive off with a small nod.

**THUD!**

A screech preceded it and Sherlock jumped out of the cab to see what had happened. Lying by the tyre was a cat, howling in pain.

The woman who had been sleeping upstairs had heard the yell of her baby and grabbed her keys before taking the steps two at a time and running down to find what had happened. She began to cry as she saw Sherlock crouched by a cab, examining the source of the screams.

"Toby?" she called out and Sherlock turned around.

For the second time since she had seen him, his eyes filled with apology, not wanting to see the look on her face as he realised what had happened. Molly ran towards them and felt tears run down her face as she saw what was happening.

"We have to take him to the vet," Sherlock told her.

~oOo~

The cabbie was kind enough to drive them to the vet free of charge. Sherlock made a call on the way, informing them of what had happened and making the first appointment possible.

When they had arrived, Sherlock and Molly were told to sit down and Toby was taken away for some pain killers.

Molly stared at the ground, tears forming in her eyes. Sherlock sat watching her, his lips dropping a fraction and his eyebrows furrowed. Sadness was etched in his face as he thought about what she was going through.

"He was a good pet, always catching creatures in your house and being there for you," Sherlock said after a few minutes of silence.

After a few more minutes, Molly broke the silence. "I don't want to go in, Sherlock. I don't want to find out what's going to happen."

"Totally understandable, Molly."

"Can you go in for me? Please?"

Sherlock looked at her rather startled. Him? He didn't even like the cat!

"Of course. I'll come out and let you know what the vet says."

~oOo~

"I'm afraid he's going to have to be put down. If we don't, he'll be in even more pain. He has internal bleeding as is and will have to go into surgery. He probably wouldn't make it through that," the woman told Sherlock.

He nodded and looked at the ground. "Can we say goodbye to him first?" he asked.

~oOo~

Sherlock and Molly stood by the makeshift grave site just behind 221B Baker Street. The looked down at where the body wrapped in a towel lay. After a few minutes of the couple staring into the void that was encasing Toby, Sherlock began to bury the little thing.

Of course, Molly didn't want to return home that day. She didn't feel comfortable being there when Toby was pretty much killed outside her home. Besides, her heating was broken. Molly crawled into Sherlock's bed and cried into his chest. It wasn't even 12 o'clock and Molly was having one of the worst days in her entire life.

John had walked in on them as Molly was crying and Sherlock comforted her. That was the day that he learnt about Sherlock's relationship with her and that perhaps Sherlock really wasn't just a cold robot on the inside.

* * *

**A/N: hey guys!**

**I posted this today because I thought I should post something after I promised to on Friday. I'm currently editing the 30 day challenge and improving that.**

**Quick message to echoesinthenight: I used to be a huge fan of _Glee _but after they kept going to New York, I got a little bored and decided to stop watching. I haven't been overly interested in it except for Sue but on Molly's website, she mentions watching it with Jim and that he loved it. I keep referring to it because of that. No bias, I swear, just sticking to canon ;)**

**Righty-o. I don't think I'll be writing anymore this weekend (unless you count my psychology assignment that will have my teacher questioning what he teaches us) and I won't be on until Wednesday, i think (because i have to do an oral for English about Africa).**

**Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to watch _White Girls._**

**Thank you for reading, I really appreciate it!**

**TL;DR: I have to do school. Very short hiatus.**

**x**


	25. The News

Mrs Hudson ran up the stairs to 221B Baker Street. Ever since her hip, she avoided any activity such as that but today was important.

"Sherlock! John!" she called out, out of breath as she entered their living room.

Both the boys ran from their rooms to see Mrs Hudson, both on high alert. "What?"

"Have you heard the good news?" she asked, a huge smile spreading on her face.

"Obviously not, Mrs Hudson. Please refrain from asking such questions in the future."

Ignoring Sherlock's comment, she continued. "Same sex marriage will commence on the 29th of March in England and Wales! Isn't this wonderful?" she beamed.

"I'm sure the gay community are over the moon…" John trailed off feeling somewhat confused. "I don't see why you ran to tell us though."

"Use you're head, John!" Sherlock called as he stalked back to his room.

"You two can finally get married!"

"For the last time, Mrs Hudson, I'm _not _gay! I'm engaged already, anyway. I'm engaged to a woman named Mary." Exasperated, John turned around and returned to his room.

Mrs Hudson sent him a knowing smile and walked back stairs, wondering how John and Sherlock were going to celebrate the news.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys!**

**Few things:**

**1. ****As I do believe (aka what I read on tumblr) same sex marriage will commence/ has commenced on the 29th of March. So that's cool!**

**2. ****Sorry for such a short thing. I'm not allowed to post author notes as chapters. I had to write something up… so here it is!**

**3. ****I think I'm going to take a break from fan fic for a bit. For creative writing, I have to write a novella and I need to put a lot of time into that. It may be published, not sure on details.**

**4. ****I will finish all prompts given up until the first of April. After that, I'm not accepting prompts.**

**My apologies for the above things (except point one and two).**

**Thanks for reading!**

**x**


	26. The Finale

_Dedicated to all the beautiful readers and especially to Might Sword._

* * *

There was a noise downstairs. It was an odd noise that neither Sherlock nor John had heard in a while. John was writing up a case for his blog when the noise started. Sherlock was going through all the cases John had written, grumbling as John undermined Sherlock's intelligence. Who _cares_ about how fast the Kardashians are going? It wasn't Sherlock's job to keep up with them, so why was John quizzing him? Sherlock blamed Mary.

"What's going on?" John asked to Sherlock.

Sherlock stopped scrolling through the blog and looked up at his blogger. "What? The noise? Paparazzi, John. No need to get flustered. Be a lamb and go find out what they want this time," Sherlock ordered. He looked down again at the poor writing of John Hamish Watson.

The blogger rolled his eyes and stood up, following the orders of the pompous and pretentious detective. Sherlock wasn't all he was cracked up to be. He didn't even know who Kim Kardashian was. John rolled his eyes again, thinking about how little Sherlock really knew about the world around him.

John reached a door. It separated him from the streets of London. With a sigh, he opened it and peered out.

"Good morning, everyone. Erm, can I help you? I'm not sure I've got enough sugar for all of you…" John trailed off with a weak laugh, looking at all the bright flashing lights.

"John, John!" everyone began to bombard him with questions.

"Er, yeah? One at a time, if that's alright…"

"How does it feel to be an internationally acclaimed internet superstar?" one of the journalists asked.

He was puzzled by that question. Internationally acclaimed internet superstar? Just those words enough made him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, a what?"

As more people began to shout at him, John reached into his pocket for his phone. He picked it up and looked down to send Sherlock a text when one came through.

_Get in the car, John. It's parked 100 meters on your left._

"If you'll excuse me," John slipped away through the crowd and walked down the road, looking for the car.

A window rolled down and a woman's head poked out. "Morning, John. I'd recommend you get in the car. My boss won't be happy if I arrive back without you," she told him.

John groaned and opened the door. For whatever reason, he trusted this brunette woman. He decided her boss was Mycroft and that he'd have a hard time not arriving for Mycroft. With all due respect, Mycroft was almost as pompous as his brother. The internet phenomenon, John Watson, climbed into the car and as soon as the door slammed, was whisked away from the commotion in front of 221B.

He was startled to find himself arriving at a television studio rather than a deserted warehouse, as per Mycroft's usual appointments.

~oOo~

Sherlock was having tea with Mrs Hudson in 221B. She was wearing her new purple dress that she was very fond of.

"Sherlock, dear, where's John?" she asked, her eyes skimming over the mess Sherlock had caused during his last bored phase.

"I don't know. Being swamped by the paparazzi, I presume," he replied while turning on the television, trying to infer to Mrs Hudson that he wasn't interested in chatting.

"No, I don't think so. The last I saw, he was walking away and then they all swooped off. Funny how they do that, travel in packs. You'd think they'd all be everywhere trying to get shots of different celebrities. Why travel in a large pack? You know, in the _animal _kingdom, they probably wouldn't travel together like that to get one person because-"

"Shut up for a second, Mrs Hudson," Sherlock demanded as he turned the volume up on the TV.

_"And now we're here with John Watson, the famous blogger. How are you, John?" the fake lady on television asked._

_ "Yes, I'm well. It's a pleasure to be here."_

"Sherlock!" Mrs Hudson exclaimed. "That's John! On the television! It's John!"

_"Pleasure's all mine. Now, tell me John, what inspired you to become the blogger that you are? You've made it far from the retired army doctor who came home from Afghanistan."_

_"Indeed. It all started so many years ago when I came home. I was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, as my therapist often informed me, and, I don't know, it was a fluke, I suppose. I ran into one of my old friends, Mike Stanford, and he introduced me to Sherlock Holmes. It's all developed from there."_

Sherlock frowned at the screen. What the devil was going on?

_"What's it like working with Sherlock Holmes?"_

_"Er, haha! Yeah, it has it's days. Sometimes I just want to kill that bloody man and other days," John paused and shook his head, a small smile on his face. "Other days, Sherlock's really my best mate and I don't know what I'd do if it wasn't for him."_

_"Naww! Well, he sure is a great sidekick for you, isn't he?"_

_"Oh, don't let Sherlock hear you calling him that. We all know what happens when he gets angry," John laughed and smiled over at the woman._

_"Has the fanmail been overwhelming? I know that you've basically become an overnight sensation, has that affected you very much?"_

_"Well, to be honest, I basically found out this morning when there were some paparazzi at the door. Sherlock demanded, as usual, that I go and find out why they were there and from then, I've found out how popular my blog is. I don't have a counter on the site anymore because it's frozen too many times or it can't go high enough, and I don't regularly check the comments so it really has come as a shock."_

_"And you're currently writing a novel, is that right?"_

_"Yes, yes. It'll be a lot about the cases and about life with Sherlock Holmes. I suppose all the Sherlock fans will enjoy getting an insight to his life."_

_"Don't forget everyone, John's new show, _Busy Blogger on Baker Street _will be airing tonight at seven. That should be great. What's it about, John?"_

_"Tonight's episode is a generalisation of all the cases we've been on, mainly the ones I haven't covered on the blog, but It'll be a lot about recreating some of the crimes and showing everyone what went on."_

_"That sounds splendid! I can't wait to watch it. Thank you so much for being here today, John!"_

_"Not at all. Thank you very much for having me."_

Sherlock's jaw had dropped as he watched the interview. "What the-"

"Oh, I didn't know he had a new television series! Won't that be great to watch, Sherlock?" Mrs Hudson bubbled before taking another sip of tea.

John's _side kick_?! Oh, no. This was **not **okay.

~oOo~

The not-so-famous private detective slumped his way into the morgue. Molly was sitting at her desk in the lab, being ever so careful to fill out this new form right this time.

"Doctor Hooper!" a voice boomed from the morgue.

The young pathologist jumped and rushed downstairs, not aware that she had ruined the form and she'd have to restart the paperwork. "S-Sherlock!" she stuttered as she realised who was standing there. "What's going on?"

The detective sunk into the nearest chair and sighed. "It's John," he told her, drama seeping into every pore of his words. "He's famous now and doesn't have time for his lowly side-kick," he grumbled.

"Side-kick? He has a side-kick?" she asked.

"Yes, Molly. Me, apparently. It's ridiculous. I don't have anything to do. I don't want to solve any crimes without John. Lestrade said he had a seven but John's busy right now." He looked around the morgue, tapping his finger in a random pattern.

"Well, I think there's a fair not too far from London. We could go out. I've just got a few forms left and then I'll be done," Molly informed the bored man.

"I suppose… can I help?"

~oOo~

After the catastrophe of realising she'd ruined the forms, Molly finished up and took Sherlock to her flat. She had to get changed and make up a bag. Molly instructed Sherlock to stay put (something he ignored). They took a cab out to the fair and that's when the magic all began. It was candy floss and popcorn galore. Sherlock had even agreed to go on the bumper cars with her. And oh how she bumped him. He had little control over the car but Molly was bumping into him at every opportunity she had, laughter emitting from her as she got closer to the detective. Sherlock began to smile as well when he saw how much fun she was having and she could see how much she was enjoying herself. It almost killed him to tell her it was time to go home.

~oOo~

The cab pulled up at Molly's flat and both the two parties exited the car. They walked to her door and stood facing each other, neither breaking the silence.

"I had a great time, Sherlock. You really should get bored more often," she teased him.

"Never fear. I'm bored regularly." He looked around, feeling bored then, too.

"Did you want to come in, or go back to Baker Street?"

Sherlock looked at her and frowned. "I should go home. John'll be waiting, not to mention Mrs Hudson."

The pathologist nodded at him and looked down at her shoes. "Well, thank you, Sherlock. Thanks for taking me to the fair. I had a great time."

"As did I. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

Molly gave a meek smile at him and Sherlock smiled back in return. He felt something was supposed to happen, he just wasn't sure what.

"Goodnight, Sherlock," Molly whispered out and turned to enter her flat.

"Wait," he burst all of a sudden. Molly spun around and stared Sherlock straight in the eyes. They stood facing each other, staring into each other's eyes while Sherlock held Molly's arm. "I- uh…" there was a silence as Sherlock gathered his thoughts.

Molly's face contorted into a frown as she watched the man struggle. "Wha-"

He leaned down and kissed her, halting her mid-sentence. She began to return the kiss, leading to a full on snog. He broke away after a few minutes and smiled at her.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

~oOo~

_The amateur, consulting detective walked into St. Bart's to examine a body for the Detective Inspector. He wasn't very keen on Sherlock getting involved with cases, but he was willing to let Sherlock help. Sherlock was willing to take anything the DI gave him, even a two._

_"Morning, Rodger," Sherlock called as he entered the morgue. "How is your wife this morning? Oh, let me guess, she's decided to go through with the divorce? If not, she will tonight. You still reek of women's perfume. She'll smell it the instant you arrive home. I have to say though, Rodger, you haven't cheated on your wife at work before. You're sinking to a new low," he called out._

_Rodger was up in the lab and it was just him and Sherlock in the morgue/lab. No-one would hear what Sherlock was sprouting out. No-one would tell Rodger's wife._

_"Erm, excuse me, who are you?" a feminine voice called out from behind him._

_"Don't worry, I'll turn a blind eye. Just walk out as though you haven't been sleeping with Rodger." Sherlock said while retrieving the body of Mr Ferguson._

_"I'm the intern. Who are you?" the voice asked again, bitterness seeping into her tone._

_Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. Another incompetent idiot. He spun around to tell her who he was and why he was there when he froze. The mousey intern stood there, staring at him with curiosity and slight fury. The girl stood out to him. She had a quite reserved nature to her and he began to deduce._

_Deceased father, two older brothers, one successful, one not, stress, date tonight, same bloke as yesterday, very nervous, shaky hands when nervous, life ambition is to be a pathologist here at Barts, definitely not sleeping with Rodger, gullible._

_"My apologies for the wild accusation. Clearly they were meant for someone less… committed to a relationship than yourself. The name's Sherlock Holmes. And, you are?" he asked, dragging his eyes up and down her frumpy, coated body. She was wearing many layers, it wasn't like Sherlock could even admire her._

_"M-Molly Hooper," she replied before walking towards him, hesitating on every step._

_"Molly Hooper," Sherlock said as though testing the name on his tongue. "Well, I'm here for the DI of Scotland Yard. I'm just investigating a body."_

_"Oh, a policeman, are you?" she asked, confusion resting in her eyes._

_"No, consulting detective. Also a private detective. I haven't quite decided what suits me best…" he trailed off and looked down at the body, giving occasional flicks of his eyes towards Molly who was studying him with determination._

_"Consulting detective suits you more," she answered._

_"Hmm… yes, I think I can swing that way. Thank you." Molly's cheeks flushed red and she nodded a bit. "What can you tell me about Mr Ferguson's body?"_

_"Erm, the autopsy was performed by myself with the guidance of Mr Horace-"_

_"No need to be so formal, Miss Hooper," Sherlock teased before letting her continue._

_"I- er, yes, well, cardiac arrest. If you ask me, that's not quite right. There were no signals pointing to that."_

_"Yes, it's because it wasn't just cardiac arrest, it was a poison that stopped him from pumping blood. To put it simply, the poison halted the heart," he told her before pointing to the few indications on his body._

_"That's not what Mr-"_

_"Well, that's the same man who couldn't even keep his affair secret from his wife for longer than three minutes. Nonetheless, you've done well, Molly. I may even consider you." He looked up at her and smiled a little. If he flirted with her enough to get her interested, she'd be more inclined to help him, something that would benefit seeing as she'd be getting a job there in a few years. "Until we meet again, Miss Hooper." Sherlock bowed a fraction and winked at her before rushing out of the morgue._

_For the next few years since then, he pulled out the stops to get her onto his side and to be his slave, if you will. No harm, no foul._

~oOo~

John was still busy in the media. He was rushing about, writing his book in his free time, and filming his very successful television series. It was being broadcasted over the world and the success of John's blog skyrocketed.

His wife, however, was not as excited as John was. He was coming home very late and leaving very early in the morning. Their baby girl, Poppy, was being harassed by the public as well. Mary couldn't even walk down the street without having people take photos of her and her child.

The blogger, television star and author got into bed that night and smiled over at his wife. After a short pause she smiled back and kissed him.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

Mary gave him an are-you-really-that-oblivious look that Sherlock often gave him. "Not really, John. This newfound fame isn't working for Poppy and I."

John wrapped an arm around his wife and sighed. "Do you want me to stop? Say the word, love, and it's over. I won't go back to the studios, I'll avoid everything, I'll destroy my book, I'll put the blog aside. Say the word, Mary."

She gave him another look, one he couldn't interpret. "I don't want to make you unhappy. I mean, it's affecting Poppy and I, not in a good way."

The blogger nodded and kissed Mary's cheek before bringing her into a hug. "Alright."

~oOo~

The consulting detective arrived at the morgue the next day, fear scrawled across his face.

"Molly! Molly Hooper!" he yelled out.

The meek pathologist rushed from the lab and jumped into the morgue, looking at Sherlock wide-eyed.

"What? What's wrong?" she asked.

"Homicidal maniac, terrorising London. And he's on the roof. Let's go." He turned around and began to walk out of the morgue.

"B-before that, could be, I don't know, talk about… us?" she squeaked out.

"I'm telling you, Molly, the killer is on the roof," Sherlock told her before grabbing her hand and pulling her to the elevator.

"One, this sounds like Moriarty all over again. And two, I want to talk to you about yesterday," she told him as he dragged her away from her work.

They entered the elevator and the doors slid shut behind them. "It was nothing, Molly. Spur of the moment. Now please, some silence." He jumped into his mind palace and blocked the outside world, trying to piece together the last of the murders.

A sudden jolt threw Sherlock from his thoughts. "What did you do?" he barked at Molly. The elevator was frozen in place and the lights had begun to flicker.

Molly looked at him wide-eyed and her jaw dropped. "M-me?" she stuttered out, feeling tears well in her eyes.

The detective gave a frustrated sigh and sank onto the ground. The entire elevator had gone pitch black and they were stuck in a confined space together, both on high alert and both feeling upset.

"Morning, Sherlock," the voice of Jim Moriarty said through the PA system, startling Molly who jumped.

"Sherlock, what's going on?" Molly asked as she felt her way back to a corner and sunk into it.

"Molly, please, the men are trying to have a conversation."

She froze with fear, unable to comprehend that Moriarty was still alive. Jim began to giggle and moved away from the microphone to laugh. Molly felt along the ground for Sherlock.

"S-Sherlock? Where are you?" she asked as she reached her hands out.

Sherlock held out his hand and grabbed hers straight away.

"Well, isn't this cute? Ooh, Sherlock, before I forget, I saw your boyfriends show on TV last night. I was portrayed in such a bad light. Where on earth did they get those ghastly photos? I asked Sebastian to destroy all evidence of my life but, look Seb, my baby pictures." There was the sound of skin on skin contact and Molly winced at the sound. "Don't worry, Molly. He gets a kick out of it. I really should use another form of punishment; a punch and dislocated jaw really isn't doing much for him nowadays."

Molly squeezed Sherlock's hand and scooted closer to him. "Sherlock, I'm scared," she whispered out.

"It'll be ok, Molly. Lestrade knows we're here," Sherlock comforted, kissing the top of her head.

"No phone service, I'm afraid," Moriarty said, leaning back in his chair.

"No matter. Free WiFi," Sherlock spat back as he flicked his phone on.

~oOo~

For a few more minutes, Moriarty caught Sherlock up on what he'd been up to, what he had for dinner and what Seb was making that night. There was a knock on the door of the elevator and a muffled shout of John Watson. "Sherlock, Molly, are you two in there?"

"Yes, John. Did you get help?" Sherlock asked.

"I did. I know how you're always raving about how smart you are so I got you something." There was a shuffle of paper as something was pushed through the door. "I got you a paper clip and a blank page. I hope it helps. Lestrade and I are going to the pub for a pint. Let us know when you plan on joining us. Have a nice day, Molly," he called back out.

"That twisted little shi-"

"John! It's Moriarty!" Molly screamed out. "He's on the PA system!"

A small voice whispered into Molly's ear. "I'd recommend you take that back or I'm afraid there will be a lot of blood spilling from your neck," Jim threatened, a cold object pressed against her throat as he spoke.

"Wait, what?" John called back.

"She was just joking, John. If you're not going to help us, I suppose I best figure out how a paperclip is going to save the day," Sherlock interrupted the conversation, knowing Molly would burst into tears or have a quiver in her voice that'd give it away.

"Alright. Bye you two." John called back.

Unbeknown to them, John was outside with Lestrade and the technicians who were working to get the situation under control. Anderson had been payed by John to sneak in and talk like Moriarty.

"Back off, Jim," Sherlock threatened.

"Ooh, the brave Sherlock Holmes threatening little old me. Some things never change."

Sherlock smirked as he realised what had happened (it was the beard that gave it away, and his deodorant) and reached up to grab Anderson's neck. He brought him away from Molly and whispered into his ear, trying to keep his voice down to continue the charade with Molly.

"Well done, Anderson. Just not good enough. Now, pretend to kill me and we'll sneak out of the elevator," Sherlock demanded.

"I guess this is it, Sherlock Holmes," he said before pretending to stab him. Sherlock's hand went limp in Molly's and Anderson pulled him away.

Molly began to cry as "Moriarty" removed the body. "SHERLOCK!" she called out while grasping for the man, panic washing over her.

Anderson and Holmes snuck away from her and managed to get to safety.

~oOo~

After getting a bite to eat with Anderson, Sherlock walked to where the gang were waiting for him and Molly to demand to leave.

"S-Sherlock?" John stuttered as he realised his friend was there, not in the elevator as expected.

"Yes. What?"

"Y-your… fu-."

The technicians opened the door to reveal a sobbing Molly alone in the small space. She was huddled in a corner, tears streaming down her face.

"I got another donut while I was out. Can I interest you?" Sherlock asked John.

Molly's head snapped up as she heard the voice and gasped a little. What was going on? "Y-all of you?" she looked at them and sighed. Of course, it was all a joke- a joke played on the unsuspecting Molly Hooper. Eyes welling yet again, she jumped up and ran out of the elevator and out of Bart's.

"So, she thought it was all real," Sherlock commented while taking a bit of John's neglected donut. He ignored Lestrade's wishful gaze at the delicious and turned around to go back to Baker Street.

John ran to keep up with him, walking by his side. "I've got a few things to tell you. First, you need to go talk to Molly and explain that the joke was meant to be on you and she wasn't meant to be involved. Also, Mary and I decided to stop all this fame nonsense. It's affecting all of us; Poppy, Mary, me, you. Thoughts?"

"No."

"Excuse me?" John asked as Sherlock stalked out of Bart's.

"I'm not talking to Molly about that; that's absurd."

"Well, what about giving up the fame?"

"I don't care. It was five seconds. And your show wasn't even that good. I could learn more from your blog than that rubbish book pitch. As for Mary and Poppy, nope. They weren't affected, no-one cared. It was just you and your big head. You weren't spending time with any of the people who care for you."

"Did you just say you care for me?" John asked, feeling a little flattered.

"Not at all. I said you've been neglecting those who care such as Mary and Poppy. I have no time for emotions and such."

"Yes, but you love Poppy."

"Who couldn't? She's adorable. I shall train her," Sherlock told John as they walked further and further away from Bart's. Sherlock realised how stupid he was and hailed a cab.

"You are not training my daughter!"

"Too late," Sherlock replied as he slipped into a cab.

~oOo~

Everyone seemed to forget about Molly Hooper. No-one explained to her the joke. No-one remembered to clear the air. Why was it always her?

When John and Sherlock next went to the morgue, Molly didn't say a word, even after Sherlock offered a once in a life time opportunity to go on a date with him if she helped them that day. Instead, she finished her work and at the time she was supposed to end, she got up and walked home, swapping with Tara. Sherlock hates Tara so he followed Molly's lead and walked out of Bart's, John trailing along like the puppy he is.

She had begun to talk to them a few days after the incident (like she wouldn't succumb to talking to Sherlock eventually) and life continued the way it always did. It was only a few years later that it was mentioned and John explained the whole thing. Straight away, Molly forgave all involved.

* * *

**A/N: hey guys,**

**I hate to say goodbye, but I think this is it for now. I might come back soon with a story, but I suppose we'll see what happens. In the meantime, a huge thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed/followed/favorited/sent in a prompt/PM'd me. I have really appreciated all the response and messages you've all sent- you're beautiful!**

**A huge thank you to Mighty Sword for the many prompts I have received!**

**This isn't the complete end though guys! I'll be back with a short story soon (holidays are right around the corner!) and I'm always here if you want some Beta reading or some assistance of any kind.**

**TL;DR: thanks for being great! C U soon!**

**xxx**


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